


Coral and Bone

by Macbetha



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hella Greek Mythology, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mermaids, Mutual Pining, Romance, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-30 20:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 106,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macbetha/pseuds/Macbetha
Summary: It was just supposed to be a nice little summer at his dad’s. Makoto didn’t expect to be swept up in ocean waves and sweet heat and chewed lips, nor did he expect to cherish the slightest upturn of someone’s mouth or how they turn away to blush. And Makoto really, really, wasn’t expecting there to be mermaids.But, then again, he also never thought that he could fall in love in a single summer, so perhaps it’s all just not what Makoto expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are. The Mermaid AU.
> 
> Alright, so, this plot was one of the fastest ideas to ever take my mind by storm. Unlike my other fics, this was not something I had in my thoughts for months before putting figurative pen to paper. Long story short, I had the most overwhelming college semester of my life, made the dean's list, celebrated by going to the beach, and all that mixed with sand, sun, and rum equals this. I've been wanting to work some different writing muscles and what better way to do that than by telling the story of a summer romance with a mermaid? 
> 
> Saltyaf, thank you so much for being one of the best beta readers, soundboards, and all around wonderful people! [(archive of our own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf/) | [twitter)](https://twitter.com/poutyharu)

* * *

_“Of his bones are coral made;_  
_Those are pearls that were his eyes:_  
_Nothing of him that doth fade_  
_But doth suffer a sea-change_  
_Into something rich and strange.”_  
  
\- William Shakespeare 

* * *

* * *

  _The rain beats color from the Earth – churning grey twists the sky inside out and the blueness of the ocean gives way for darkness that spreads like a growing bruise. The thunder roars with drumfire as lightning pierces the water and pulses through it like a living vein._  
  
_Haruka fights against the waves, straining to see through rain that hits like bullets. His insides run cold when he hears the boat crash into the rocks. The scream of metal has ice clawing down his back and he tastes the salt of his own tears for the very first time._  
  
_He is overcome by a turmoil of emotions he has never felt: a sorrow that crests into a physical pain; a resolution that catches his blood on fire. With his mind set, Haruka turns away from the crash and lashes through the water toward the marina, scales flashing in a white-hot burst of lightning._

* * *

Makoto wakes to the invigorating scent of saltwater. The cab of his mom’s truck is drenched in humidity; this trip has been endless torment of heat, haze, and no air conditioning. He stretches, headphones lolling down, ears flexing at the distant cawing of seagulls. His eyes fly open and he lurches up against the window, excitement rising in his chest as blue ocean spills across the horizon line.  
  
He can barely take it as he waits for skyscrapers to turn into gas stations and fast food joints, then it all shrinks away into sand. The landscape rolls with dunes, climbing higher with pastel condos on stilts. Traffic narrows into a black ribbon of one lane highway as road crews repair pavement damage from the recent storm, and the stench of exhaust fumes makes the summer temperature that much more nauseating, but eventually the highway spreads into five lanes and his mom floors it.  
  
The truck jerks into the far lane as tourists jaywalk to get to the beach. University students race from their assignment deadlines on neon sports bikes, wearing nothing but swim trunks or bikinis with their bulky helmets. A teal Jeep barrels through traffic, tires spraying sand, surfboards jarring the cargo bars as the radio’s bassline leaves the very air quivering.  
  
Their next exit narrows into a cobblestone roundabout in downtown Iwatobi. Ferns hang from black street posts, stems tumbling over the hanging baskets and flowing like green ribbons. Makoto cracks his window and smells tanning oil, beer froth, baking calms, and frying fish. Stores line the busy streets; gift shops with flaring neon in the windows, antique stores with lacy ironwork, and restaurants with balconies hanging off the edge of the cliffside.  
  
Makoto stares at the fountain in the middle of the roundabout as the truck circles it. A mermaid statue is the center piece – she is cast in bronze and gold flares off scales in the sunlight. Her hair whips across her face like she fights against the wind and she reaches desperately toward the sea, oblivious to the people taking pictures with her and reading her plaque.  
  
Makoto’s grandfather built that statue fifty years ago. Her grief-stricken expression made Makoto feel guilty as a child, but when he asked his grandfather why she looked so scared, all he said was, “You’ll know why one day.”  
  
Makoto is seventeen now and he still does not know why, but that odd sense of shame still comes with the sight of the mermaid. He thinks he might be the only one to be disturbed by it – Iwatobi has been known for mermaid sightings since the 1800s and the wave of hopefuls that come every summer is what keeps the town going.  
  
His thoughts turn elsewhere as the truck splits from the downtown congestion and heads for the wetlands. Makoto watches the beach rush by, the water stretching to the quivering horizon line as heat carves the air in two. The sight of the ocean is conflicting; Makoto’s chest tightens with nostalgia even as his eyes dart to every rocky island like he will be able to sense where his grandparents’ boat crashed mere weeks ago.  
  
His mom takes his hand in understanding but her voice is strained. “Mako, are you sure you want to do this?”  
  
His pulse startles quicker. “You said you thought I should –”  
  
“I know,” she snaps in a burst of frustration. “But I –” She fumes a sigh and pulls off on the side of the road, burying her face in her hands for an overwhelmed moment. Makoto rubs her back in silence, waiting in the soothing lull of waves because he has no words of comfort to offer when _he_ needs them so badly.  
  
Gradually, her voice ventures. “It’s just overwhelming to be here. Way more than I prepared myself for.”  
  
Makoto breathes a tired laugh. “I know what you mean.”  
  
She sweeps a hand through his bangs in dazed wonderment. “I can’t tell you how much I think of you for wanting to come down here and be with your dad. He was so close to his parents.” For a flash of a second, the resentment gives way to empathy, which Makoto is thankful for, because he no longer has the strength to placate his mother and father’s arguments.  
  
He meets his mom’s gaze and while both of them have green eyes, their depths have changed in a thousand different ways. Hers are bagged with exhaustion; his are a dying light. Even so, the love still shines through because they have been all each other has ever since the divorce.  
  
Well, up until seven months ago, anyway. Makoto really didn’t have it in him to protest it when his mom met a guy at the bar where she works and got married just two weeks later. He makes her smile, _really_ smile, and that’s really all that matters, regardless of how awkward living with a stranger is for Makoto. Even if her pregnant belly is very much the elephant in the room, Makoto never felt jealous – he is ready to fly apart with joy at the prospect of being a big brother to _twins._  
  
But that thing about placating arguments and living with a stranger? Well, let’s just say there might be more than one reason why Makoto wants to stay with his dad over the summer, though the trip was spurred on by his grandparents’ disappearance. He refuses to call it their _deaths_ even in the privacy of his thoughts. Vehemently, he refuses. Their boat might have been found in wreckage but no bodies have been found yet – they won’t be.  
  
They won’t.  
  
Either way, Makoto’s dad is accepting defeat after weeks of searching and Makoto just cares too much to let him face all of this alone, regardless of divorces or anything else.  
  
He squeezes his mom’s hand. “I’ll be fine. I can handle myself, Mom.” _Been doing it for a while now._  
  
She bows her head in stubborn acceptance and puts the truck back into drive.

* * *

His dad lives off the highway down a white ribbon of sandy road carving through dark forest. Willow trees billow overhead, whispering with the breeze. Purple and yellow wildflowers circle the nearby swamp and Makoto shudders when a baby crocodile drenched in pollen muck slides into the water.  
  
The truck breaks through the coastal wilderness and drives into the welcoming sunlight. A short boardwalk guides the way through a rippling field of wheat, leading up to Makoto’s childhood home, and the sight is almost disorienting. It is still a humble, traditional structure with salt-distressed wood paneling and a tin roof that sears in the afternoon light. His heart swells at the rocking chairs on the front porch and his chest aches when he sees his dad sitting in one of them. The chair on the right is empty because that is where Makoto’s mother used to sit.  
  
His mom parks the truck and Makoto steps out, fit to burst into light, he beams at his dad so hard. He eases out of the rocking chair and clomps down the porch, boots flaking mud as he approaches.  
  
Makoto is shocked when his father embraces him because never does he initiate comfort so blatantly – it says so much of how he has suffered over the past few weeks. Makoto hugs him fiercely and his dad breathes, “Hey, boy.” He gives him a firm squeeze. “Good to see you.”  
  
“You too,” Makoto whispers, holding him close for just one more moment to savor it. It’s amazing that even at six feet tall, Makoto can still feel small. His dad is taller, stronger, and _does_ love him, as miserable as he is with emotions.  
  
Makoto steps back and his dad works his hands into the pockets of his greasy khakis. “You, uh.” He flaps his elbows. “Got taller.”  
  
Makoto laughs, ducking his head. “A little, yeah.”  
  
It is nice to see that his dad has not changed – not physically, at least. His glasses are still held together with duct tape at the frames and the lenses are cloudy. He’s working two day stubble and there’s dirt in the creases of his frown lines from working outdoors. His flannel is wrinkled and faded with age; in fact, Makoto remembers it from before the divorce, which was seven years ago.  
  
His mom slides out of the truck and Makoto watches his dad’s mouth firm into a line. Makoto’s bones sink in dread and the tension presses down from both sides as his parents stand on either side of him, using him as a barrier.  
  
His dad clears his throat and nods. “Hey.”  
  
His mom busies herself with smoothing the creases out of her sundress so she will not have to look at him. “Hi.”  
  
His brows crease at her stomach. “You’re pregnant?”  
  
She crosses her arms over her belly. “Yeah.”  
  
His voice is distant. “Oh.” He looks away.  
  
Makoto could scream for hours.   
  
His mom sags in defeat and finally meets his gaze. “I really _am_ sorry about your parents, Riku. It makes me question so many things because –” She swallows thickly. “They were good to us. They were good people.” She takes a deep breath. “You can – you could call if you need to, okay?”  
  
His dad stiffens in surprise, then his shoulders bow under the weight of grief. “Thanks, Sara.”  
  
They both turn their gazes away and Makoto knows that’s as good as it’s going to get.

* * *

After his mom leaves, Makoto shrugs on his backpack and his dad walks him to the house. He opens the door and sweltering heat drenches Makoto, the air stale and thick. “Air con’s broken,” his dad grimaces. “Buddy of mine won’t be able to look at it until Monday morning.”  
  
Makoto’s right eye twitches because he just went _hours_ in the truck with no air conditioning and he might actually _die,_ but he will try to do it with a grateful heart. “No problem,” he assures, voice cracking just an octave too high.  
  
He is happy that so many details of his childhood home remain intact. The walls are still painted a refreshing shade of white, even if the family photos are gone. In the kitchen, he trails a hand over the dark cabinets, tracing their glass doors with a distant mind. He climbs the creaking stairs to the second floor and opens the first door on the right.  
  
His grandparents’ room looks like a preserved shrine. Her easels are still set up with blank canvases ready to be painted and his desk is still cluttered with paperwork. Makoto’s laugh is pained. “He hated the smell of her oil paints.”  
  
His dad quirks a smile, leaning on the doorframe. “You remember her specialty?”  
  
Makoto turns to an unfinished canvas on the easel by the window, which frames an inspiring view of the shore. The sketch of a boy is in pencil and even in the frozen two-dimensional world, he is elegant. Every curve of him has the ingrained grace of a bending ocean wave, everything from the sweep of his waist to the arch of his back. His hair is shaded black, strands billowing like he is underwater. His jaw is sharp and heavy charcoal outlines his eyes, making them appear cold and hard, but somehow Makoto knows that his grandmother shadowed them with such depth because she believed there was more to the boy than his fierce exterior.  
  
Makoto’s gaze trails down the boy’s torso to where his body narrows into a tail and flares out into a fin. “She liked painting mermaids,” Makoto breathes. She finished his tail; his scales are raised with definition and each one is painted with as many changing shades of blue as the ocean itself. She thought a lot of this boy to give him so much detail.  
  
The memory of his grandmother’s care overwhelms him and he heads for his bedroom before anguish can swallow him whole. Most everything in his room is the same as well – the dresser is there, his bed is here, the window is over on that side of the room. He thought that being in his childhood room would fill him with aching nostalgia, or at least some memories, but it feels like going into his grandparents’ old bedroom pushed him past his emotional limits and now he is numb.  
  
Though he does feel a flutter of something when his dad clomps in and clumsily presents him an antique desk fan with brass blades and a wire cage. “Since the air’s broke, I got you this at a yard sale this morning.” He shrugs at the fan’s olive base. “I remember you like green, so.”  
  
In times like these, his awkwardness is the most endearing thing in the world. “Oh wow, thank you.”  
  
His dad puts it on the nightstand and rubs the back of his neck. “You, ah, get hungry or anything just let me know. We can order pizza or whatever.”  
  
All at once, he remembers that he has not eaten in two days. Hunger eats him alive, but his stomach is already so heavy with grief that he could not ingest anything if he tried. He forces a smile. “I’m all right for now. I think I’ll just lay down. It was kind of a long trip, you know?”  
  
“Oh, right. Course.” His dad goes to leave but pauses in the doorway, head bowed. “I, um. I appreciate you bein' here, Mako. Really.”  
  
Makoto’s heart swells. “I’m glad I came, Dad. Really.”  
  
His dad looks over his shoulder and smiles tiredly before closing the door behind him. Makoto deflates all at once and flops on the bed.

* * *

He never falls asleep – his mind is reeling too hard to let him even close his eyes. Through his window, he watches the orange sunset blaze across the ocean like liquid fire. It dies out in a purple haze and the night comes alive with a roar of crickets and the croaking of frogs echoing from the swamp. It is a blessed change from the overwhelming city he and his mom moved to with her new husband, but not even the countryside ambiance can send Makoto into dreamland.  
  
He hears his dad’s bedroom door close and sits up. He remembers which floorboards squeak and walks around them to pull the back door open just far enough so that it will not creak.  
  
The ocean laps at the backyard, seafoam hissing as moonlight ripples over the black sea. A dock stretches into the water and it guides Makoto across the waves so he can sit at the edge. This was his favorite place as a child and his best memories all took place here, like naming cranes with his mom, fishing with his dad and grandfather, he and his grandmother watching porpoises rear up for air in the early morning fog. All of it is a lifetime away and he will never get one piece of it back, not ever.  
  
He doesn’t mean to, but he weeps. He didn’t want to, he tries so swallow it down, but not even his self-loathing can cease the tears. He feels such rage at his grandparents for boating out into that storm in the middle of the night for no reason, without even telling somebody where they were going. He hates himself for drifting away from his dad even if _he_ was the one who worked too much and drove the family apart in the first place. Makoto cries because he feels like his mom threw him away for a new life even though she didn’t, she _hasn’t._ She asked if Makoto was okay with her marrying her boyfriend of _two freaking weeks_ because she cared about his opinion, but – but what could he say? How could he say no, how could he _beg her_ not to do it after she’d been alone for seven years?  
  
It feels like everyone he needs has left him or is oblivious to him needing them. He could never ask anyone to stay for him, but his heart screams for somebody to finally _reach out to him._  
  
His muscles tense under the sudden weight of a stare. Awareness prickles across the back of his neck, the air thickening with a new presence.  
  
Makoto turns around and his breath lodges in his throat. A boy stands on the dock mere feet away; Makoto heard no approach and wonders how long he’s been watched – oh God, if the boy heard him _crying._ He is barefoot and… oh wow, okay, _no shirt._ Like, at all. The dock lights pour amber over naked skin that ripples like liquid gold. Makoto’s eyes follow as a bead of water rolls down the muscled valley between his pecs, down a thick row of abs, disappearing into the jammers slung just low enough to expose the scored line of his hip. Never before has Makoto’s mouth watered and his throat dried so quickly.  
  
He watches moonlight play in the silken darkness of the boy’s hair. His eyes are the most saturated shade of blue Makoto has ever seen, nearly glowing against the night. The boy’s brows raise anxiously and Makoto realizes that his face is still wet with tears. He wipes his eyes quickly, blurting, “Sorry.” He doesn’t know why he says it – it’s automatic. It’s shamed.  
  
The boy hunches fretfully. All at once, he thrusts his hands out in offering and Makoto cranes back.  
  
It’s oysters. _Raw_ , still-wet-from-the-sea oysters. Their iridescent shells flash in the dock lights and really, _nothing_ about them is appealing to Makoto, but his belly thinks otherwise. Pressure aches in his gut, demanding, and when his stomach growls the boy nudges Makoto in the belly insistently. Makoto blinks once. Twice. “You… want me to eat them?”  
  
The boy nods urgently.  
  
Makoto’s lips part for words. He doesn’t know what to say and he cannot find his voice as the boy sits beside him. He scatters the oysters out and gives Makoto a pocket knife, then waits expectantly.  
  
Makoto stares. “You get that all of this is really weird, right?”  
  
The boy raises his brows with wide-eyed exaggeration. _Your point?_  
  
Makoto sighs. Shrugging to himself, he picks up an oyster and tries to remember how his grandfather taught him to do this. He turns the oyster flat side up and wedges the blade into the hinge at the edge of the shell. Then he presses down and pops the hinge open, parting the bottom and top shell. He shifts the oyster in his palm, eyeing the boy warily, but he is unwavering.  
  
Makoto winces and brings the oyster to his lips. He holds his breath as he tips his head back, and it’s a rush of wet salt and nutrients, protein, _food._ His eyes nearly roll back. He cuts open another one, then another, and the boy watches him the entire time, making sure he eats.  
  
He tenses in surprise when Makoto cuts open one for him. “You too,” he says, because while this exchange might be the strangest experience of his life, he can at least remember his manners.  
  
The boy takes the oyster, his fingers cold and pruned. Up close, his skin is flaked raw and iridescent when it catches moonlight. Makoto turns his gaze away before his eyes can trace the muscled curve of his outstretched arm.  
  
They listen to the waves in silence and while awkwardness still flutters in the air, Makoto is relieved that he is not expected to talk. For once, he _chooses_ to speak, and gratitude is deep in his voice. “Thank you.”  
  
The boy turns away to blush and nods.  
  
Makoto chews his lip, peeking over into the boy’s field of vision. “I’m – I’m Makoto.”  
  
The boy hesitates, then his voice flows like liquid silk. “Haruka.”  
  
Makoto’s face floods with warmth. “Haruka,” he breathes.  
  
He wants to say something more, but the boy taps one of the last few oysters. _Open that one._  
  
Makoto frowns in confusion but does as he is told, shucking away until the oyster splits. He squints down at it and gasps when something flashes inside. “No way,” he whispers, rolling the oyster to make the pearls dance. _“No way!”_ He laughs at Haruka in disbelief. “How’d you know those were there?”  
  
Haruka smirks and settles back against a pillar, gliding his toes across the water without replying.  
  
Makoto cups the two pearls in his hand, marveling at how they flare pink in the moonlight. He holds one out to Haruka, who stiffens. “They’re yours,” Haruka mumbles.  
  
Makoto grins. “Technically, they’re yours since they were your oysters.”  
  
“But the oysters were for you.”  
  
“Then _you,”_ Makoto says, “should let me give you one of my pearls.”  
  
Haruka stares. Numbly, he opens his palm and Makoto drops a pearl there, ducking down to meet the boy’s shy eyes through his fringe. “See?” he murmurs gently. “It’s not so hard.”  
  
Haru parts his lips, gaze darting to Makoto’s mouth. Their eyes lock and Makoto realizes how close together they are, the sweet warmth of Haruka’s breath lulling over his face, blue eyes threatening to drown him.  
  
Makoto turns away and tries to clear his throat but it sounds like rocks in a blender. Haruka swallows, then pushes the last oyster toward him. “You should finish.” He crosses his arms with purpose and Makoto groans. Haruka’s toes flick water at him insistently.  
  
Makoto sighs and shucks away, but he has a smile as he does it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter artwork by [starshi](http://starshi.tumblr.com/post/161698478510/i-love-mermanharu-that-is-all-go-read-coral-and)
> 
> If you'd like to keep up with updates or general information about this fic, feel free to follow me on[ tumblr](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/). I tag all things related to this fic as #cab or #fic: coral and bone. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so overwhelmed with happiness at the response for this story. Thank you with all my heart! 
> 
> Ten thousand cupcakes to be sent to the lovely [erengelion](http://erengelion.tumblr.com/) for [this](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/160703792260/erengelion-haru-parts-his-lips-gaze-darting) adorably dramatic / heart-stealing sweet depiction of Makoto and Haruka in chapter one. You bring such joy with your work - thank you for sharing it! 
> 
> And thank you, saltyaf, for beta reading! [(archive of our own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf/) | [twitter)](https://twitter.com/poutyharu)

* * *

 So naturally, Makoto does not get a lot of sleep that night.  
  
He wonders if he dreamed up the entire thing – if his unmet emotional needs conjured up the image of a boy who cares in his own strange way and decided that Makoto was worth such trouble. But the pearl is evidence that it was all true, even if Makoto is still staring at it in disbelief when 1 a.m. rolls around.  
  
Eventually, he drifts, lulling in and out of consciousness like the push and pull of waves. Then, at 6 a.m., the blare of his alarm clock hits like a bucket of ice water and he jerks awake. He startles when his bedroom door opens and his dad stomps in, already dressed in his rubber work overalls with his thermos of coffee steaming in hand. “Ready to go?”  
  
Makoto claws for consciousness, voice rasping along. “Go where? Ready for what?”  
  
His dad stares. “Your summer job at the marina? You know, the one we talked about a week ago?”  
  
Makoto remembers with a sickening lurch. “Oh, I – _oh.”_ He rips free of the sheets and dives for his dresser.  
  
His dad sighs with fond exasperation. “Try to be ready in ten,” he chuckles, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Makoto is ready in seven, but he takes the time to safely tuck his lucky pearl into his pocket on his way out.

* * *

As it turns out, Makoto’s grandparents owned the most popular tourist spot in Iwatobi. Trident’s Point is a jack-of-all-trades, including a boat marina, restaurant, and gift shop, with amenities such as dolphin tours and a perfect view of surfing competitions. Sudden ownership was thrust upon Makoto’s dad when his grandparents went missing, and despite working there all his life, taking on such a workload doubled his stress.  
  
Makoto never worked at the marina, so he won’t be much help at first, but he knew that spending his summer in an empty house with his grandparents’ empty room would be depressing, so he asked if he could work at the marina when he decided to come to Iwatobi.   
  
He just… kind of forgot. Meeting an odd, half-naked boy in the moonlight will do that to you.  
  
Makoto rides shotgun in his dad’s Honda, which is older than Makoto himself. The engine barks at random intervals and Makoto is sure his nerves will fry by the time they get to the marina. Nervously, his hands smooth over his swim trunks, which is a given for working on the docks. The uniform is just a short-sleeve shirt, breathable cotton for working in the heat. Makoto’s is dark green with a little golden trident on the breast pocket.  
  
He tries to work out his restlessness by looking for shirt wrinkles, which in turn _makes_ wrinkles. Starting a new job is too much like starting a new school, which was a nightmare for Makoto when he and his mom moved to her new husband’s city. Urban high schools are like ant farms, yet Makoto still ate lunch by himself and went entire days without talking unless he was called upon by a teacher. It made a hole sink into his chest, hollow and heavy at the same time.  
  
He wants this to be different – knows, deep down, it _will_ be different – but his previous experience leaves him anxious.  
  
His queasiness lurches to an all time high when his dad’s cell phone rings and he grimaces at Makoto in apology when he hangs up. “I need to go out with the crew today. The surfing competition has the usual fishing routes blocked off and I need to help navigate across the channel. So I don’t think I can be at the marina to show you around today.”  
  
Makoto’s stomach drops.  
  
“But you’ll be fine.” His dad turns the wheel to drive into the marina entrance. “I know somebody who’ll be able to help you more than me.”  
  
Makoto opens his mouth to protest, but his voice dies as the truck falls under the marina’s shadow. Makoto cranes his head back to take in the superstructure – stilts suspend it over the water and boats line the docks beneath. The building is constructed from tin and wood, with blue pillars stretching from the docks and climbing the three stories to the observation deck. On the second story balcony, employees gather at the deck tables to mingle before opening hours.  
  
Makoto takes a deep breath and follows his dad up the first flight of stairs, heart faltering when he looks down and sees water between the open steps. He quickly climbs the rest of the way and inhales the rejuvenating aroma of early morning fog and salty sea. He gets lightheaded when he smells something greasy and divine, remembering that his grandparents served the crew breakfast in the mornings.  
  
Rounding the corner affirms that the employees keep the tradition alive. Cooks weave between outdoor stoves, smoke billowing as bacon hisses and eggs fry in pans. Platters overlay the crowded tables; plates of fried shrimp, whole salmons, strawberries saturated in juice, melted cheese dripping from sandwiches.  
  
The crowd overwhelms him. Extra chairs cram the sides of overflowing tables and there is no elbow room at the bar, the line at the coffee pot wrapping around the corner. The air is loud with laughter and conversation that Makoto aches to be a part of.  
  
The overhead speakers drone out boating conditions and on the mounted televisions are replays of surfing competitions. A boy behind the bar watches the screen with razor focus as he vaguely towels a pitcher clean over the sink. His hair is tied back, but the breeze left in a mess around his eyes, and his face is flushed from the morning humidity. Makoto follows his gaze to the television and sees who he assumes is a surfer, watching the waves with the same razor focus as the boy.  
  
The boy stills at the sight of him, eyes roaming down the thick planes of the surfer’s bare back like a physical caress. His gaze hazes over, chewing his lip as he drags the rag slow and heavy across the pitcher.  
  
“Rin,” Makoto’s dad calls.  
  
The boy snaps to attention, thrusting the pitcher into the sink and sloshing water. A blond boy at a table howls at the scene and throws himself into a pink-haired guy who weeps with laughter. The boy at the bar curls his lips back as he pushes his dripping bangs up and throws the drenched rag at the pair.  
  
He marches toward Makoto and his dad. He looks about Makoto’s age, but his built is slighter, muscles lean under his red Trident’s Point t-shirt. He strides with purpose, chin high and posture straight – determination in every fiber of his being, even in an absent moment such as this.  
  
He beams in greeting at Makoto’s dad, who says, “This here’s Rin Matsuoka. He’s the assistant manager. Well, manager today, since I’ll be out.” He claps Makoto proudly on the back. “Rin, this is my son, Makoto.”  
  
Makoto blushes and Rin tips him a smirk. “Good to meet you.”  
  
“You too,” Makoto says, dipping his head in a hurried bow.  
  
“Rin’s gonna walk you through today,” Dad says. “He does a little bit of everything, so I’m sure he can answer any questions you got.” After a beat of awkward silence, he quickly squeezes Makoto’s shoulder. “You’ll do good.”  
  
Makoto steadies at that and bids his father goodbye as a crewman pulls him away. This leaves him standing alone with Rin, and Makoto smiles nervously. “I’m sorry you have to drag me around today. I’m sure you have better things to do –”  
  
Rin waves a hand. “I’m not thinking of it like that and neither should you.” His grin is firm in this statement.  
  
Makoto rubs the back of his neck. “Well, okay then. I appreciate it.”  
  
Rin hesitates, eyes darting over to gauge his expression. “I think it’s really brave of you to be here after what happened.”  
  
Such a sudden, deep confession surprises Makoto, especially because Rin says it with such odd understanding. “I’m sure it’s been hard for all of you too,” Makoto says, nodding to the crowded tables. “After all, you worked for them. You saw them more than I did.”   
  
“Still.” Rin props against the wood siding, crossing his arms at the distant sea. After a heavy moment of nothing but waves crashing, Rin mumbles, “My dad’s boat was lost at sea a few years ago, so I got an idea of how you feel.” He shakes his head at Makoto, shoulders weighed with an exhaustion so much deeper than physical. “The not _knowing…_ it’s like, you’re on edge all the time. At least I am, anyway. I don’t even sleep anymore cause I keep thinking someone might call about him.”  
  
Someone finally put Makoto’s feelings into simple words. It makes his emotions feel manageable, somehow.  
  
Rin levels their gazes. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here, is what I’m tryin’ to say. I know how that shit can eat you up inside.”  
  
Gratitude surges through Makoto’s chest, and his voice fumbles, but he tries. “I’m here too, if – you know, if you ever need to talk.”  
  
Rin bows his head with grave appreciation. “Thanks, Mako.” He pops to his feet with his default smirk back in place. “Ready for the tour?”  
  
At Makoto’s affirming nod, Rin stretches over the balcony and points to the docks below. “So that’s where you’ll be spending most of your time – we’ll go down there after a while and I’ll introduce you to Natsuya. He basically runs the docks, but nobody here has a specific position, really. We all do a little of everything to help each other out, so that means that whatever you’re doing, there’ll be plenty of people who can help you with it.”  
  
Makoto swallows his nervousness and trails after him.    
  
Rin breezes through a set of glass doors and cold air lashes them, making Makoto sigh a bit too loudly in relief. Rin chuckles. “It’s always hot as hell outside, so it’s mandatory that you take breaks in the air con throughout the day. Dock workers switch out every two hours – you’ll be working in another position during that time.”  
  
It looks like Rin guided him into the restaurant. Makoto remembers certain details from visiting the marina as a child, such as the colossal brass mermaid hanging over the bar – her scales, made of rainbow glass, throw prisms of color through the air. The restaurant was designed to look like the interior of a ship, a yawning, dark stretch of wood paneling and small, porthole windows. The tables are set in stark linen, gleaming silverware, and cloth napkins folded like seahorses. Every inch of the walls is covered with pieces of seashells, which was a pain-staking art project that Makoto’s grandmother completed herself, he remembers.  
  
With that memory warm in his heart, he follows Rin to the employee locker room, which is humid under buzzing fluorescent lights. He gives Makoto a combination lock and a sticky note with a scrawl of numbers, guiding him down the row of lockers. “This one’s yours,” Rin points. “Put _everything_ in there – wallet, keys, especially your phone. You’re gonna be working with boats. I promise it’ll get wet if you have it with you.”  
  
Makoto quickly does as he’s told and Rin stiffens in realization. “You _can_ swim, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Makoto perks up. “My swim team at my old school went to nationals last year.”  
  
“Thank _God.”_ Rin flops against the lockers, jarring the whole row. “You wouldn’t believe how many people try to work around water when they can’t swim. There’s other positions, you know?”  
  
Makoto chuckles, wiping some dust off of his locker door. “Yeah, I’ve known how to swim since I was like, four.”  
  
“Same.” Rin props against the wall, professionalism relaxing for a moment. “You ever had a job before? I didn’t, before I worked here. Started cleaning the docks when I was about fourteen and worked my way up.”  
  
Makoto nods. “I gave swimming lessons to the five-to-seven age group back home.”  
  
“Aw,” Rin laughs. “That’s sweet. Well, it sounds like you’re all –” He squints at Makoto’s sneakers. “You didn’t bring boots, did you? For the docks.”  
  
“Oh. No, I didn’t. Sorry.”  
  
“Natsuya’s bitchy about that sort of thing. What size do you wear?”  
  
“Um, twelve?”  
  
Rin purses his lips in thought and opens another locker. The door bursts open and Rin lunges to shove the mountain of junk back inside, but it crashes to the floor. In the following silence, Rin bows to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Don’t _ever_ share a locker with your sister.” He tosses lip gloss tubes back into the locker, untangles a glittery phone charger from around his ankle, and blindly throws hair spray and a straightener, metal walls clanging. At long last he rips something from the fray and slams the locker closed.  
  
He sets the boots down on the bench. “Just wear those today. They’re my boyfriend’s, but he’s not working today.”  
  
Makoto hesitates. “Are you sure?”  
  
Rin frowns. “Yeah? Oh, wait.” He grimaces. “Is it the boyfriend thing?”  
  
Makoto scoffs a laugh. “Not hardly.”  
  
Rin looks him over and raises a brow in question. Makoto’s throat floods with acid, gut twisting because he’s never told _anybody_ that he’s gay. Not that he’s ever made a move on a guy or even kissed anyone in his life – he’s simply come to terms with the fact that there are only so many reasons why he would rather dream about strong arms around him than holding someone curvy and supple in his own. Not to mention that a certain encounter with a particular blue-eyed boy has reinforced his sexuality to an undeniable degree.  
  
Saying he is gay out loud has always been the most terrifying concept to him, but then again, he’s never met someone as confident about it as Rin, and he’s been kind thus far, so…  
  
Barely perceptible, he nods.  
  
Rin bounces back on his heels and a grin startles to life. “Oh. Awesome.”  
  
Makoto sinks against the lockers, and only when he hears metal clanging does he realize that he’s shaking, but he feels better when Rin levels their gazes. _“Breathe,_ you’re safe here. Trust me, you’re among friends. That kind of thing is no big deal around here.”  
  
“Okay,” Makoto whispers, bowing over his knees for a moment. “Okay.” His mouth twitches into a disbelieving smile because even though he almost passed out, his chest feels lighter, like a weight he didn’t know was crushing him vanished.  
  
With a newfound vigor, he puts on the boots and Rin leads him toward the doors just before they burst open. A guy slams them shut with a desperate _whoosh,_ back pinned to force them closed, his chest heaving, red glasses askew.  
  
Rin cranes back. “Rei, what –”  
  
“It’s _Nagisa,”_ he hisses, and he seems to have lost a flip flop on the run for his life. “He –”  
  
A coo echoes from the restaurant. _“Oh, Rei-chan~”_  
  
Fretfully, Rei hugs his clipboard to his chest. “This is the third time this week he’s asked me if I _toss the reel or eat the bait._ Does he think that he can compare _me_ to some prosaic cod? Is that what he’s doing, Rin?”  
  
Rin clears his throat, laughter bubbling up. “Ah, no. That’s not what he’s trying to do.”  
  
“Then why –”  
  
“Anyway,” Rin says, clapping Makoto on the back and making him grunt. “This is our new guy, Makoto. He’s gonna be working the docks most of the time.”  
  
Rei clutches his heart. _“The_ Makoto? Riku’s son?”  
  
“That’s the one.”  
  
Rei lunges to shake Makoto’s hand with passionate vigor. He rears up to his full height, shrilling, “Why, I can scarcely believe that I am meeting you, at long last! A true honor, Makoto, truly!”  
  
Makoto laughs lightly. “Thanks, you too.”  
  
Rei sweeps into a grand bow. “I am Rei Ryuugazaki. I balance the books for Trident’s Point.” He clutches his clipboard proudly. “I also maintain the security equipment and other technologies.” His shoulders droop, head falling. “Though, I don’t know much about boats, so I am afraid we may not see each other very much.”  
  
Makoto puts on his best smile and means it. “I’m sure we will! Rin says I’ll be doing a bit of everything, so I look forward to seeing you.”  
  
Rei looks fit to burst into light. He opens his mouth to say something else but then they hear that flirty call once more. Rei yanks Rin’s collar and levels their gazes. _“Distract him_ or I will show Riku what I have security footage of you and Sousuke doing on the clock while you were not supposed to be anywhere in the near vicinity of each other’s genitals.”  
  
Rin lets out a theatrical gasp with wide-eyed exaggeration. “Was it like that _third time_ I caught you and Nagisa in the boat warehouse and you were –”  
  
Rei flies through the doors in a mad dash to escape. Rin brushes himself off with a satisfied grin and saunters into the restaurant, followed by a baffled Makoto. Rin calls, “Nagisa still in here?”  
  
“Went in the office,” a cook drawls while balancing a clam on his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he glances at Makoto then looks up, clumsily grabbing the clam as he blinks in surprise.  
  
Rin props against the bar. “Makoto, this is Momotarou. Works in the kitchen, specialty is the stripped bass and being a little shit.”  
  
“True,” Momotarou nods solemnly, running a hand down his backward cap. His bedhead sticks out in every which way and he’s slumped with the exhaustion that comes after 3 a.m. _Call of Duty_ missions. He downs the rest of his energy drink, which reeks like gasoline, and he crushes the can against his head before tucking it into his apron.  
  
Rin sniffs the air and makes a face at Momotarou. “Ugh, did you borrow Seijuro’s Axe spray?”  
  
“Hey, girls like that smell,” Momotarou defends, striking a pose with flexing muscles and his spatula glittering in the light. “Sei swears by it!”  
  
A voice calls, “Momo-chan, you know that stuff’s not a substitute for deodorant, right?”  
  
Momotarou frowns in confusion. “It’s not?” He ducks his nose into his armpit and his mouth firms with a vague look of nausea. “Oh.”  
  
Makoto follows the voice and sees the pink-haired guy from earlier slouched in a bar stool at the end of the counter. He leans back on his elbows in a bored sprawl, tongue flicking a toothpick back and forth until his half-lidded eyes find Makoto and flare with interest. “Hey cutie,” he smiles, not sneering, not suggestive, just sweet. “Who’re you?”  
  
All of Makoto’s blood rushes to his face, but Rin smirks like that’s how this stranger greets everyone. “That’s Kisumi. He’s one of our guides for the dolphin tours.”  
  
Makoto should have realized Kisumi works here by his deep V-neck shirt with the little golden trident on the breast pocket. Makoto wills his blush away to say, “That must be a fun job, the dolphin tours.”  
  
Kisumi’s tongue twists the toothpick as he shrugs. “It is, but dolphins are _complete_ divas. They wanna just show up unannounced but they can never fit it into their _hectic schedules_ when you’ve got a boat full of people paying to see them. Entitled little miscreants. You should come on a tour and see them, though.”  
  
“That sounds nice,” Makoto chuckles.  
  
They startle when the kitchen doors fly open and a red blur dives under the counter. The flapping doors creak in the nervous quiet and Kisumi leans over the bar, cooing, “Oh Monkey, what happened?”  
  
A stalk of red hair perks up, creeping down the bar like a shark fin above the water. “Cleopatrick is outside,” the voice below whispers.  
  
Momotarou drops his spatula to clutch his heart, the clang of plastic echoing in the horrified silence.  
  
Makoto feels deeply unsettled as Rin groans. “Asahi, we haven’t seen Cleopatrick in months! Are you sure that was him?”  
  
The stalk of hair points at Rin accusingly. “I know what I saw, okay?! I was just trying to unload the food truck and he came at me like a heat-seeking missile! He freaking – _Momo, stop laughing!”_  
  
Makoto’s concern must show on his face, for Rin explains the situation with an embarrassed grimace. “Cleopatrick is this pelican that likes to steal food. Every so often when the food truck comes, he kind of… well, _bomb-dives_ for it, and that scares the employees away so he can snatch what they were carrying.”  
  
Makoto stares. “That’s a little brilliant, actually.”  
  
“Oh, for sure,” Rin nods. “But it’s bad for business. Plus, disturbing as shit.”  
  
“It’s more than disturbing!” The redhead – Asahi – throws himself over the counter in dramatic vanquishment. He pouts while Kisumi unravels the leaves and twigs from his hair, probably from diving in the bushes for cover. Asahi stands up and brushes the dust off his cooking apron with an offended huff.  
  
Makoto dares to ask, “Why is he called Cleopatrick?”  
  
Asahi regards him with a shrug. “He just had that look, you know?”  
  
Makoto opens his mouth. Closes it. Nods firmly. “Right.”  
  
The office door opens and the blonde boy from earlier creeps out, hair fluffed like an exuberant lion cub stalking prey. “Where’s Rei-chan?”  
  
“Iceland by now, probably,” Kisumi muses, thoughtfully pinching his toothpick.  
  
The boy – Nagisa – deflates, but perks up just as quickly. “Well, he’ll have to come back for his flip flop eventually!” He tucks the shoe into his back pocket with a fond pat and turns around to blink at Makoto. He lurches up on his toes in excitement at a new face. “Oh, hi there! I’m Nagisa.”  
  
Makoto finds himself tired from nothing more than Nagisa’s radiating energy, but he finds the strength to grin back. “Makoto – I think I’ll be working the docks, mostly.”  
  
“Ah,” Nagisa nods. “Natsu-chan will need the help with most of his boys in the surfing competition today!” He gestures to his pink Trident’s Point shirt. “Me and Kisumi do the dolphin tours – we don’t work on the marina much.”  
  
Kisumi twists his toothpick around a smirk. “Manual labor isn’t really our thing.”  
  
_“Watching_ though.” Nagisa emphasizes with wriggling brows.  
  
“Yes, we can watch all day,” Kisumi nods. “Nothing better than kicking your feet up on the restaurant balcony with a mint julep and rating muscles with Rin’s sister.”  
  
Rin’s gaze is flatter than roadkill. Kisumi drops him a wink.  
  
Nagisa squints at Makoto, hands propping on his hips. “You look familiar. Have you worked here before?”  
  
“Ah, no.” Makoto rubs his arm. “But my dad’s the manager. I guess we kind of look alike.”  
  
Nagisa’s hands fall slack. “Your dad’s Riku? That means –” His eyes widen in realization and he wraps Makoto in a fierce embrace. Makoto freezes, shocked, touched, and confused, but it all makes sense when Nagisa says, “I’m so sorry about what your family has gone through, but I’m so glad you’re here, Mako-chan.” He beams up at him. “We will have the best time, okay?”  
  
Makoto’s heart swells, touched by the sincerity. “I’m sure we will.”  
  
Rin goes over some kitchen inventory with Asahi before guiding Makoto out of the restaurant, waving at Nagisa’s exuberant goodbye. “We’ll stop by the gift shop,” Rin says. “Then I’ll take you to the docks.”  
  
Trident’s Point has opened for the day and already, tourists crowd the balconies, taking pictures, conversing, and being entirely oblivious to Rin and Makoto struggling to get around them. Rin weaves through the tables with practiced ease and the servers maneuver with just as much poise, lifting platters of steaming fish over their heads.  
  
Makoto has trouble keeping up. He almost trips when a man suddenly gets up from his table, but a small hand lands firm on his back to steady him. A girl bends around his shoulder, ginger strands slipping from her braid. She pats Makoto’s back in understanding, not spilling so much as a drop of her espresso martini. She nearly has to yell over the cover band doing their sound check on the other side of the deck. “Are you all right?”  
  
Makoto nods, flustered. “Yes, thank you!”  
  
Her eyes flicker to his shirt pocket and she gasps a smile when she notices the trident. “Oh, you must be new! I’m Yazaki, but most people call me Aki.” She pats the apron slung low around her overalls. “I’m a waitress. I’ve only been here a few months, so I know how you feel. This place can get overwhelming.” An exasperated blush turns her freckles pink. “Were you trying to find Rin?”  
  
Makoto nods and Aki drops off the espresso martini before guiding him through the fray at a slower pace. Another waitress is slouched against the balcony, but she perks up when Aki approaches. Aki leans in to ask where Rin is and although the deck is loud, she dips forward a little closer than necessary. However, the other girl seems entirely comfortable with the intimate contact. She’s bony where Aki has curves, skin so pale that it is tinted blue, despite that she works out in the sun all day as an outdoor server.  
  
She points Aki in the right direction and nods in greeting at Makoto as he passes. “That was Satomi,” Aki says, and her smile is fond, adoring, _in love._ “But you can call her Nii. She’s quiet, but don’t let that make you think she’s rude. She’s pretty shy, actually.”  
  
They find Rin next to a girl at the hostess stand, their hair an identical shade of maroon. “Sorry, Makoto. Didn’t mean to lose you.” He gestures to the girl. “This is my sister, Gou.”  
  
“Hey,” she grins, ponytail swishing, hands tucked cutely in her apron pocket.  
  
Rin scowls at the guy leaning over the stand – he has bronze muscles and bright hair with eyes only for Gou. “That’s Seijuro,” Rin introduces. “Who should be at the beach for the _competition.”_  
  
Seijuro waves his concern away. “I’m going, I’m going!” He leans into Gou with half-lidded eyes, purring, “I just need my good luck kiss first –”  
  
A group of surfers tumble out of the restaurant, already dressed in their wetsuits, and one of the boys whips a towel across Seijuro’s ass. Seijuro’s shriek pitches to a frequency that could make dogs whine and he chases the howling boys toward the shore.  
  
Rather in a stupor, Makoto follows Rin around the corner, and a bell tinkers over the gift shop door as they open it. The space is blessedly quiet, wind chimes singing as wind rolls in through the open shutters over the corner window seat. Books line the shelves in a warm, faded palette, with weathered spines about local mythology or sailor biographies. Polished conch shells twinkle in glass cases, laminated post cards flashing in the low, golden light from antique lamps.  
  
Rin and Makoto follow the sound of tinkling glass to the check out counter. A boy looks up, hair sweeping from its tuck behind his ear, violet lashes fluttering. His serene gaze is a calming green, like a lagoon oasis, and his smile is kind. “Hello, Rin.”  
  
“Hey, Nao. This is Makoto, he’s Riku’s son.”  
  
Nao blinks, straightening in realization. “Oh, welcome.” He carefully lays down the wire he was beading to take Makoto’s hand with a gentle squeeze. “We’re so glad to have you.”  
  
Makoto bows his head and Nao’s sincerity relaxes his smile. “I’m glad to be here.”  
  
Rin pops his hip out with a conspiring whisper that Nao leans into. “He’s gonna be doing most of his work with Natsuya on the docks.”  
  
“Bless you,” Nao snorts to Makoto, rolling his eyes with a fond sort of exasperation that makes Makoto chuckle in confusion.  
  
“Do you not like him?” he asks.  
  
Nao smirks at that, mulling, “You’ll find that Natsuya is a very passionate man. He merely has a tendency to hold himself and the docks to a certain standard, is all.” His gaze falls with sorrow. “He looked up to your grandfather with everything he had; he’s just trying to do right by him. We all are.”  
  
 Makoto bows his head with grave appreciation. “I know how that feels.”  
  
Nao lifts a brow at Rin. “Speaking of Natsuya, he was looking for you this morning. He needs to get some boats out of storage by noon.”  
  
Rin’s brows crease but then they shoot up. “Oh, that’s right. Kazuki’s at the competition today.” He glances at Makoto, adding, “He’s one of our only fork lift drivers. Well, including me, that is. Certification’s a bitch.”  
  
Nao rises from his seat with more elegance than necessary. “Why don’t you head over to the warehouse and I’ll take Makoto to Natsuya – only if that’s all right with you, Makoto. I can put in a good word for you.” He huffs, bangs fluttering. “Plus Natsuya forgot his lunch this morning and I need to bring it to him at some point today.”  
  
Makoto smiles at Rin’s hesitation. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
“If you’re sure…” At Makoto’s assuring nod, Rin backs out of the shop, retying his hair as he goes. “Thanks, Nao. I’ll come check on you in a while, Makoto!”  
  
The door chime tinkers as he exits and Makoto takes his thirteenth deep breath of the day, making Nao chuckle. “It’s a lot, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes,” Makoto admits, bashfully rubbing the back his neck. “But everyone seems very nice so far.”  
  
Nao ducks under the counter to retrieve a bag from the mini-fridge. “We’ve all been in your shoes before.” He sweeps his arm through the warm ambiance of the shop. “The chaos is what drew me here. The gift shop is very quiet.” He laughs to himself. “I’ve found that when there are breakable items in the near vicinity, people tend to think that speaking softer will lessen the chances of them breaking something. So feel free to drop by if you ever need a moment to yourself.”  
  
Makoto bows his head gratefully as he follows him out of the shop. “I appreciate that.”  
  
“Of course.” They step outside and Nao locks the door with a snort. “Working with Natsuya, you’re going to need it.”

* * *

The marina is located on the bottom level of Trident’s Point, where the underside of the deck serves as shelter for the boats during a storm. From there, docks stretch out into the open water, branching into two more, and from there, three more, becoming an endless maze that Makoto has no hope of mapping out.  
  
But the guy standing before the labyrinth appears to know it like the back of his hand, and something about his precision tells Makoto that this is Natsuya. He motions sailboats into slots, their canopies throwing looming shadows. He waves goodbye to the teenagers on jet skis who just stopped by to eat at the restaurant. He steers a pontoon boat full of families and Labradors into a safe resting place against the dock with practiced ease.  
  
Natsuya paces the marina with his head bowed to a checklist, his curls a wild tumble over his narrowed eyes. Nao steps forward and everything about Natsuya changes – his tight expression unravels in delight and the creases of his frown curve into laugh lines. He guides Nao closer with a hand on the small of his back, pecking his lips in greeting. The action startles Makoto because it’s so _natural,_ like the two of them are oblivious to being out in public or just can’t find it in them to care. How long has he imagined being so easy about himself or with someone else?  
  
Nao hands him his bagged lunch and Natsuya groans in relief, devouring the sandwich right there where he stands. Nao leans up to tell him something and Natsuya’s eyes flicker to Makoto in surprise.  
  
He wipes the crumbs from his mouth and strides over to shake Makoto’s hand firmly. “Makoto, good to meet you. I’m Natsuya Kirishima. I overlook the marina.” He opens his mouth to say more, but settles with giving his hand an earnest squeeze of emotion. Makoto understands and bows his head in appreciation.  
  
Nao leans up to kiss Natsuya on the cheek. “Be nice,” he warns as he departs.  
  
Natsuya pouts after him. “I’m always nice.”  
  
Nao pats Makoto on the shoulder when he passes. “Have fun.”  
  
Nao leaves him standing before Natsuya, who scrutinizes him with crossed arms. “You wore boots today, that’s good.”  
  
Makoto sends a prayer of thanks for Rin as Natsuya guides him down the docks. “I’m glad to have you here, truly. Normally we have a good bit of help out here, but most of my guys are surfing today, and with good reason – that beach is crawling with sponsors right now.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease. “What does that mean?”  
  
Natsuya snorts. “It means the surfers have the potential to make some serious money if they win. Point is, they’re not here, so it’s just me and you at the moment. Well, save for Ikuya.” He nods to a pier a few rows down, where a small boy is dressed in all black despite the ruthless sunshine. His hood covers his head as he hoses down the docks and even at such a distance Makoto hears muffled rock music coming from his ear buds. “That’s my little brother,” Natsuya says. “He just started here, so you’re on a pretty level playing field.”  
  
He puts his hands on his hips and regards Makoto. “But I need to ask you a few questions, just to see what you know about boats and such. Fair warning, I’m not likely to let you work until you get all these questions right.”  
  
Makoto’s heart lurches up his throat, but he swallows it back down. “Okay.”  
  
Natsuya purses his lips and leans against a pillar. He nods to the service station a few docks over, where gas tanks line the sides. “What’s the proper way to put gas in a boat?”  
  
Makoto wracks his brain for the memories of walking the marina with his grandfather, his weathered, raspy voice echoing through his mind. “Cover the nozzle with a rag so fuel doesn’t get on the dock, or the boat, or in the water. You don’t leave the pump unattended, ever. When you finish fueling, you run the blower long enough for the fuel vapors to be removed from the engine compartment.”  
  
Natsuya’s brows jump. Makoto stands a little taller.  
  
Natsuya asks, “How do you tie a boat to the marina?”  
  
This one is a little harder, but Makoto manages. “Cross the lines over to stop the boat from swaying in either direction – that’ll protect the corner of the swim platform, too. Use a long spring line to keep the boat from moving because it has to be long for some stretch. If it’s too close, it’ll break the marina cleat. You tie the cleat in a figure eight and lock it off.”  
  
Natsuya narrows his eyes. “What’s the body of the boat?”  
  
“The hull.”  
  
“Upper edges of the sides?”  
  
“Gunwale.”  
  
“What are the side lights called?”  
  
“Red for port, green for starboard.”  
  
“Why is the cross section of the stern called the freeboard?”  
  
Makoto blinks. “It’s not – it’s called the transom. The freeboard is the distance from the waterline to the upper deck level.”  
  
Natsuya sizes him up. Thinks. “All right, you’ll do. Go man the pump station for a while.”  
  
Makoto beams and heads over, but then Natsuya calls, “And get yourself a pair of your own boots by tomorrow – Sousuke’ll be back then.”  
  
Makoto withers and quickly makes way for the pump station, leaving Natsuya’s chuckles behind.

* * *

Makoto does not know how much time passes, but he is exhausted by the time Nagisa skips down the docks to retrieve him for his break. He wavers in the heat and he would be drenched in sweat if he hadn’t been forced to dive in the water when a woman’s Pomeranian jumped overboard on a yacht. Turns out that the dog actually loves to swim, but Makoto was ready to do anything to stop the woman’s shrieking – it was so terrifyingly shrill that the Pomeranian was swimming _away_ from the dock. Makoto had to take one for the team and dive on in.  
  
Nagisa leeches to his back, right where a sunburn is prickling to life. “Natsu-chan~” Nagisa waves. “I’m stealing Mako-chan now!”  
  
Natsuya’s tongue is pinched between his teeth, a wicked flash in his eye as he scrubs furiously at some barnacles clinging to a pillar. “That’s fine, Nanase should be here in a while. Good job, Mako!”  
  
_“Thanks,”_ he wheezes, throat parched for something cool. As if he read his mind, Nagisa hands him a bottle of water, and Makoto downs it before they even reach the stairs, where a line of people climbs all the way to the top. Everyone wants balcony seating for the surfing competition and there are now so many people that the murmur of conversation has become a roar. Makoto looks over the deck and sees towels blanketing the entire shore; umbrellas and tents billow in saturated pops of color. The crowd stretches down the beach as far as the eye can see; drones and news choppers hang low over the water, the beach falling into darkness as a blimp covered in hashtags slugs by overhead.  
  
Nagisa disposes Makoto at the deck bar, right in front of a roaring fan. “You holding up all right?”  
  
Makoto nods, despite that his face is pulsing with heat. “How long was I down there?”  
  
Nagisa shrugs happily. “Oh, just about an hour or two!”  
  
Makoto stares. _An hour or two?_ And he feels like he just walked across a desert?  
  
“Oh, don’t look so worried, Mako-chan!” Nagisa pats his hand. _“Nobody_ can handle the docks for more than a few hours, and you just started. You’ll build up your stamina in no time, I’m sure.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
The mounted televisions flicker on, rock music blaring to life as a wave barrels across the screen in slow motion. The crowd applauds, beers sloshing, and Rin races up the stairs to fly to the edge of the balcony. His eyes dart between the beach and the television as Kisumi guides him over to a seat at the bar, and Rin is a babbling mess. “Shit, _shit,_ did I miss something?!”  
  
“No, it just started,” Nagisa promises, helping Rin blindly grab for a stool so he won’t have to tear his eyes from the television.  
  
The screen fills with a wide shot of the ocean and narrows on the line of surfers lined up in their wetsuits at the shore. The announcer’s curling drawl plays over a bass-heavy song, made to get blood racing. _“Beautiful day on the north shore here in Iwatobi. We just had word with the contest director – said the size of today’s waves are predicted to be twelve to twenty feet. This is gonna be an unreal open for the surfing season here at the Iwatobi Pipeline.”  
  
_ Commercials from the event sponsors come next, and Makoto realizes just how big of a deal this competition truly is. The competition is sponsored by several local businesses, but even companies like Red Bull and Volcom. The program returns with the announcer’s voice, _“So, what’s at stake here for these boys today? Well, becoming a local hero, to say the least. But this a chance for someone’s entire future to be determined right here, right now, on this day.”  
  
_ Rin hugs himself and buries his face in Kisumi’s shoulder, muffling, “I’m gonna puke.”  
  
Kisumi pets his hair soothingly, then gasps. “Look, there they are!”  
  
Four profile cards flash across the screen. _“We have some hometown heroes at the Pipeline today,”_ the announcer chuckles, his voice lost to the roar of the crowd. Pride is a hot, raging force in the air. _“First up is returning champion, Seijuro Mikoshiba!”  
  
_ Makoto can’t see Gou in the fray, but he hears her shout above the horde, and at the outdoor stoves, Momotarou jumps on Asahi’s back with a wild howl and his spatula thrust in the air.  
  
The camera zeroes in on Seijuro’s excited grin, his profile cut against the blazing sunlight. There’s a bunch of confusing information scrawling across the television and Rin puts a hand on Makoto’s shoulder. “Mako, do you know anything about surfing? You probably don’t know what’s going on, do you.”  
  
Makoto’s smile twists around an embarrassed wince. “No, not really.”  
  
Rin points to the screen. “Okay, so you see that red square beside Sei’s name?” At Makoto’s nod, Rin says, “That means he’s wearing a red wet suit – that’s how you’ll be able to tell who he is in the water. This heat – er, this phase of the competition – will last thirty minutes. During that time, the surfers will stay out in the water and catch waves until the buzzer sounds. They’ll receive their scores and then in the next heat, surfers from other areas will go out in the water. Okay?”  
  
Makoto gathers up all this condensed information and nods.  
  
“The judges score on a one to ten scale, one being like, a wipe out, and ten being a bunch of tricks that go well.” He gives a considering wince. “I mean, they judge on a lot of stuff – difficulty, innovative maneuvers, variety, power, flow – but long story short, the surfers with the highest scores will advance to the next competition in a month.”  
  
The announcer introduces two local surfers, both of which are dockhands at Trident’s Point and make the employees cheer. One of the boys, Nakagawa, wears a green wet suit and the other boy, Kazuki, has a golden one. _“Nakagawa’s surfed the Pipeline since he was a kid, but Kazuki’s got a rare advantage,”_ the announcer comments. _“He’s a local skateboarding champion. Surfing and skating are thought to go hand-in-hand, so that could mean trouble for his competitors. Up next is Sousuke Yamazaki!”_  
  
Rin’s impassioned shout leaves Makoto’s ears ringing as a new surfer takes the screen. He palms his shoulder with one hand, holds his board with the other. Sousuke is physically solid and looks to be mentally controlled to a terrifying degree – his focus is diamond-sharp on the waves. His black wet suit and dark demeanor make him look like a looming shadow against the other surfers’ bright colors and enthusiasm, but something about Sousuke’s reverence tells Makoto that he is not emotionless. That storm brewing in his eyes says that he knows the sentiment of being here, as one of the local surfers with the weight of an entire town on his shoulders.  
  
The alarm blares and pelicans startle from the water, taking to the sky as the surfers dive in. They paddle out on their boards up until a wave barrels toward them, and the camera follows the surfers as they duck under the water. Makoto didn’t realize just how shallow the water is; the coral reef nearly scrapes their boards, a rainbow of fish scrambling for a hiding place. If the surfers tried to fight that oncoming wave, they would have crashed into the reef. Makoto looks out at the jet skis with the new understanding that they’re medical personnel, present for such accidents. It brings startling reality to how dangerous surfing is – those waves could shatter boards and bones easily.  
  
The surfers hover midway out, slicking their wet hair back as they sit up on their boards. They watch for oncoming swells, and though the timer in the corner of the television indicates that there are twenty eight minutes left in the heat, the green and gold surfers – Nakagawa and Kazuki – get a head start on racking up scores. Nakagawa curves a wicked smirk and Kazuki pinches his tongue between his teeth as they race toward the shore. The wave crests behind them and when they rise with it, they push upright and sweep down the waves in opposite directions.  
  
Nakagawa drives up the wave and spins at least twice, but he can’t catch up with his board and loses balance, spiraling into the undertow. “He’ll score something for the turns,” Rin explains. “But he’ll get low points for falling. They need to stay standing best they can to get higher scores.”  
  
Kazuki reels back and forth to gain momentum, zig-zagging through the chops. He carves up the lip of the wave and pivots into a figure-eight spin, hair splaying across his forehead as he grins.  
  
He comes out with a score of 5.5 and Rin runs his hands down his thighs anxiously. Makoto asks, “Why didn’t Sousuke and Seijuro go for that wave?”  
  
Rin shakes his head in frustration. “They have the opportunity to catch the wave earlier, the further out they are. That way, they can rack up more points, but that’s still a chance.”  
  
The risk pays off as a wave crests in the distance, swelling higher and higher as it plows toward the shore. Sousuke and Seijuro turn their boards around and lurch with the wave. They push to their feet and zoom through the water in opposite directions. Seijuro goes right and slices through the wave like a knife to butter, with speed and power that builds his score to a higher ranking. Aggressively, Seijuro drives up the wave and goes airborne, arms waving to guide the board into a spin. He sticks the landing and casually flips his drenched hair back, throwing the camera a wink. He gets a 7.5.  
  
Sousuke goes a completely different route. There is no grand flare to his surfing – it’s clear that he isn’t trying to impress anyone. He has no concern about pleasing the crowd because all that matters is surfing to what the water asks for, and he does not try to overpower it like Seijuro did. Sousuke lashes through the wave in a sweeping cut, coils down and rears back up into the air. The action sweeps his feet out from under him, but that gives him the leverage to curl up and flip his board over his head. It’s a weightless moment between ocean and sky, gravity defying.  
  
Sousuke lands and he stays upright all the way down to where the wave dwindles into hissing foam, breathless, flushed, _alive._ He gets a score of 9.3 and clenches his fist victoriously. Rin flies to the edge of the balcony with his grin bursting at the seams and shouts, _“That’s my man!”_  
  
Sousuke dives into the water but comes up grinning, like he can hear him over the roar of the crowd.  
  
The surfers continue to score in their set range up until Sousuke turns to catch a wave and his right arm spasms. He bolts upright and palms his shoulder, bowing with a gritted jaw. “Oh no, Sou-chan, your shoulder,” Nagisa whispers, seizing Makoto’s arm in distress.  
  
Sousuke waves away a jet ski and has to physically swallow the pain down. He keeps paddling as the announcer hums, _“Looks like Yamazaki had a little trouble there for a moment. He of all people knows the potential for disaster here at the Pipeline. He decided to surf again even though he went through a brutal wipe out during last year’s finals.”  
  
_ They play a video of the accident and Makoto sees Sousuke surfing one moment, then in the next second he glances into the wave and _jumps_ off his board like he was face-to-face with something horrifying. Makoto’s gut twists inside out when Sousuke hits the water like it is made of concrete. _“Yamazaki crashed at almost sixty miles an hour. He shattered his shoulder and he said that it peeled his eyes back when his face hit the water.”  
  
_ Another commentator muses, _“I can’t help but notice in that replay that he loses his balance for no particular reason – he looks like he’s lost complete control of his board.”_  
  
_“There was definitely something there, but nobody saw a shark and Yamazaki himself couldn’t say what it was.”_  
  
Makoto’s eyes narrow on the dark shape looming behind the wall of water in the replay, but before he can give it too much thought, the programming returns to the live broadcast.  
  
The surfers ride countless waves in the thirty minute span and Sousuke suppresses any pain he might still be enduring. Kazuki’s board grinds against the edge of the wave like he’s riding a rail, Nakagawa racks up more points with figure-eight loops, and Seijuro spins into even higher scores. Sousuke turns his hips and shoulders to the wave and pivots the board into one turn, then another, and another.  
  
Their passion and discipline collide, and that makes the competition a close call down to the very last minute. The surfers scramble for just one more wave and when the last big swell comes in, Seijuro, Kazuki, and Nakagawa take it, driving through the barrel and turning out as many spins as they can.  
  
Kisumi lurches to his feet in shock. “Why didn’t Sousuke take that?!”  
  
Rin shakes his head in desperate confusion, then he freezes in realization. He’s got his hands over his mouth, lips against his bracelet, a woven teal band. “He feels something,” Rin breathes.  
  
Makoto watches Sousuke’s hand hover over the water, the one with a woven maroon band dripping from his wrist. Sousuke’s eyes close with a deep inhale, brows furrowing like he’s groping in the dark. His eyes fly open as a wave crests in the distance, and it mounts to such a height that Makoto hears its thunderous approach echoing across the beach.  
  
Sousuke’s eyes narrow over a smirk and he kicks for the shore. The wave chases him and he lets himself be caught, board climbing the mountain of water all the way to the top. Just before he can tumble over the lip and be lost to the sea forever, Sousuke pushes to his feet and the shift in balance sends his board carving down the wall of water at a building speed. He crouches as the wave curls over him, barreling tighter and tighter, but Sousuke keeps steady with a hand cutting through the water. The camera loses him in an explosion of sea foam and Makoto’s heart falters in the moment where nobody knows if that was Sousuke’s last.  
  
And then he tears through the mist, slicing up the wave and into the air, wrenching his board into three spins. The buzzer sounds just as his board hits the water, and Sousuke is upright when the announcer shouts, _“A perfect 10 for Yamazaki! He’s the winner of the men’s opening here at the Iwatobi’s Pipeline!”_  
  
Sousuke wavers on his board, bowing to the realization that he _won_ after so much defeat _,_ and his face twists with unchecked emotion. At least until Seijuro surfs up behind him and tackles Sousuke off his board with a roar full of pride, followed by Nakagawa and Kazuki in a drowning, joyous dog pile.

* * *

Thankfully, the day rushes by after the competition. The event continues after the local surfers’ heat, so there were plenty of tourists in the area who still wanted to visit Trident’s Point. Makoto’s fingers are raw from tying so many boats to the marina, but Natsuya takes it upon himself to gauze his hands and let him off early. He congratulates him on a job well done, to which Makoto rasps his thanks and proceeds to collapse in front of the first roaring fan he sees on the balcony.  
  
He texts his dad about getting off early, but _of course,_ as it turns out, he’s going to have to be out on the water for even longer than expected, so Makoto will be waiting _hours_ before going home. He is too tired to even be mad, and any indignation prickling in the back of his mind vanishes when Asahi sends him a sundae the size of God with syrup-painted smiley faces that have cherry noses. It’s on the house for surviving his first day, and eating it is a holy experience.  
  
Nagisa joins him at his corner table to fold tour pamphlets and Makoto helps him with the task. He hears cheering and wolf-whistles as the local surfers stop by the Point after their interviews. Makoto looks up in time to see Sousuke catch Rin in a spinning embrace and mesh their grins together. He smothers Rin’s giggle with kisses and their foreheads rest together breathlessly, both of them looking so young with each other in this innocent moment. But then there are hands teasing under shirts and smirking purrs and Makoto quickly looks away with wide eyes, grabbing some pamphlets to focus on.  
  
Nagisa snorts at Makoto’s embarrassment. “That ain’t nothing. You should see them both off the clock. This is the safe for work version, trust me.”  
  
That’s hard to believe, but Makoto concedes. “At least they’re happy.”  
  
Nagisa nods as he fights against the breeze to fold his pamphlets. “For sure! They’ve been at the Point a long time – been an item even longer.” He leans in to whisper, “Sousuke’s parents died when he was like, three, and Rin’s family took him in, so they’ve literally been together forever.”  
  
Makoto’s chest aches. “That’s so awful. The part about his parents, I mean.”  
  
Nagisa nods with grief heavy in his voice for Sousuke. “I know. But Sou-chan once told me that he doesn’t really remember them, so he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be missing, if that makes sense? He had Rin’s family for that.”  
  
Makoto glances up as Gou launches herself on Sousuke’s back to give him a tight hug from behind, making him wheeze a laugh as she giggles.   
  
Makoto finishes folding his stack of pamphlets and sits back in his chair, headache thudding. His eyes wander to the marina, where Natsuya struggles to haul a crate off a small cargo vessel. Natsuya calls, “Oi, Nanase, help me with this load!”  
  
Makoto’s gaze drifts to the waves in boredom, but then something catches his eye and his heart stops.  
  
There, bent to lift the crate up on the dock, is the boy from last night: Haruka. He chose to wear a shirt today and the fabric clings to the flex of his back muscles. His arms bulge to heave the crate from the boat, then he uses the hem of his shirt to wipe the glistening sheen off his face, abs swelling as he breathes roughly.  
  
Makoto urgently gropes for Nagisa so he won’t have to look away. “Nagisa, who is that?”  
  
Nagisa follows his gaze and perks up. “Oh, that’s Haru-chan! He works on the docks, like you!”  
  
Makoto is dizzy with elated disbelief, mouth parted for words that do not even exist.  
  
“He started working here a few weeks ago,” Nagisa adds. “He stays down at the marina most of the time – doesn’t like all the noise up here. He keeps to himself but he cares in his own quiet way, I think.” Nagisa gasps in a brilliant moment of inspiration. “You should go talk to him! Get to know your co-workers!”  
  
Makoto babbles with waving hands to no avail, and before he knows it, Nagisa’s marched him down the stairs toward the marina a little too insistently.  
  
Makoto is left alone at one end of the dock and Haruka sitting at the edge with his back to him. It looks like he is taking his lunch break, which consists of… nothing. At all. What makes matters worse is that even though his face flushes miserably from the heat, Haruka does not go up to the balcony for a fan. He sits and kicks his feet over the water, watching the dance of the ocean. He does not seem particularly sad, but he is without a doubt lonely and hungry.  
  
Makoto chews his lip as he glances at the nearby shaved ice stand, where Momotarou has excelled to balancing two clams on his nose instead of one. Makoto takes a steading breath and heads over.  
  
There are an intimidating number of flavors to choose from and Makoto does not work well under pressure, which is a combination set for failure. He chooses raspberry on the fly and regrets the decision as soon as it’s made, but he fumbles across the dock with the blue shaved ice in his hands.  
  
Haruka does not turn when Makoto approaches, lost in his thoughts. Makoto’s brain scrambles for something to say, but then Haruka arches a brow over his shoulder.  
  
Makoto hears Haruka’s foot jolt in the water, sees the boy tenses in surprise. The breeze plays in his hair and mist clings to the sweep of his lashes. It shimmers at the hollow of his throat and the cushion of his lips in an ethereal gleam against the sunlight.  
  
God, Makoto’s screwed. He smiles anyway. “Hi.”  
  
Haruka nods hesitantly in greeting. His eyes flicker to the shaved ice and Makoto extends it like a peace offering. “You look hot.”  
  
Haruka cranes back so sharply that he almost falls off the dock and when Makoto realizes what he just _said_ with absolutely _no_ context, the blood explodes in his veins. Waves of nausea run through him. He sees the credits of his life rolling by. _“I mean!!!_ No, not – _not_ like that, like it’s hot out here _today,_ the _weather,_ it’s – the weather is hot.”  
  
Haruka settles down, but now he’s turned away and pouting as though he is offended.  
  
Makoto freezes to the bone. Wait, is Haruka offended because he _wasn’t_ calling him hot? Does he want Makoto to find him attractive? Does he think Makoto is… _hot?_  
  
Makoto dives to his knees beside Haruka and waves his hands frantically. “That doesn’t mean you’re not – you’re _definitely –”  
_  
Haruka watches him fluster and smirks.  
  
Makoto bows his head with a sigh of defeat and presents the shaved ice. “Please, just take this before I drown myself. Please.”  
  
Haruka’s mouth twitches as he takes the cup, and when their fingers brush Makoto suppresses a jolt because he never expected a mere brush of skin to feel intimate, but warmth sings through his veins.  
  
Makoto sits beside Haruka properly, gut swooping with the action because his nerves are trembly – frail in the excitement of being beside him once more. Makoto hands him the spoon and Haruka’s fingers linger in his hold for a beat longer than expected, just long enough to make Makoto’s thoughts scramble to figure out if it was intentional.  
  
Haruka scoops out a blue chunk of ice and inspects it. Makoto grimaces, folding and refolding his hands in his lap. “Sorry, I didn’t know what kind you would like. I panicked.”  
  
Haruka shakes his head in gentle admonishment. He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “It’s good.”  
  
Makoto goes so boneless with relief that he nearly slides into the water. He asks, “What flavor do you usually get?” Not that he’s asking for future reference or anything like that.  
  
Haruka takes another bite. “I don’t.”  
  
Makoto tips his head. “You mean you just eat the ice? It’s just – water-flavored?”  
  
Haruka stiffens, then shrugs in embarrassment.  
  
Makoto tips him a considering smile. “That actually makes sense. Plain ice is probably more refreshing in the heat than something with all that syrupy flavor, anyway.”  
  
The boy relaxes and ducks to hide his blush as he chews. Makoto leans back on his hands to enjoy the comfortable silence, wind cooling the heat of the day, the lull of waves making his eyelids fall heavier and heavier. The soft pink of Haruka’s lips turns blue from the raspberry and Makoto quickly looks away, wondering what a kiss from him would taste like with that flavor on his tongue.  
  
He blinks down when Haruka nudges the cup against his stomach. “I’ve already eaten,” Makoto says, remembering how this exchange works.  
  
Haruka gives it to him anyway, fingers sticky, clinging like the last rays of sun on a summer night. He regards Makoto with a savoring drag of his eyes. “You look hot.”  
  
Makoto squints, brows creased suspiciously. Haruka smirks and turns away.  
  
He uses Haruka’s spoon to scoop the ice and when he crunches down, juice floods his mouth and the saturated flavor makes the heat of the day sweeter, somehow. He lifts the spoon for another bite when he notices Haruka frowning in silent admonishment at Makoto’s bandaged hands. He spreads his fingers and grimaces, but smooths it over with a smile. “It’s not that bad. I’m just not used to the labor yet. It’ll get better.”  
  
He glances at Haruka’s hands, which aren’t calloused a bit from tying ropes all day. In fact, he barely even has creases lining his palms. He is as smooth as the pearl still in Makoto’s pocket, with an elegance more infinite than the stretch of water across the horizon.   
  
Makoto levels himself to pass the shaved ice back to him and asks, “Do you like working here?”  
  
Haruka takes a bite of ice and stills like he didn’t realize that the spoon would still be warm from Makoto’s mouth – still taste like his mouth. He swallows and fumbles for his voice. “I like – water. To be around it. So.” He nods.  
  
Makoto goes to ask another question, but he freezes when a stream of air bursts from the water. He inhales sharply and scrambles backward, but Haruka’s hand lands on his to stop him. Makoto’s heart is lodged in his throat, but he swallows it down, pulling courage from the strength of Haruka’s fingers around his.  
  
Cautiously, Makoto looks over the edge of the dock, and when another burst of air comes, a fin dips over the waves. Excitement rises in his chest as the water ripples around a grey, willowy shape – it moves with both agility and grace as it dips up for air once more.  
  
Makoto is suddenly five years old again, when the prospect of seeing a dolphin was the most magic experience to dream of, but he never could have imagined he would be this close to one. His eyes widen over the edge of the dock as the dolphin rears upright and points her nose at them. Makoto pats Haruka’s hand with rapid-fire urgency, to which the boy laughs. The dolphin whistles, nosing the water insistently.  
  
Haruka arches his brow over a smile at Makoto. “A bunch of dolphins were released from an aquarium that got shut down a few miles from here. She was one of them; remembers the tricks she was taught, likes people.” He snorts. “Especially if they have food.”  
  
Makoto stares down at her with adoration, whispering, “Did she have a name?”  
  
“She’s Kasatka, I think. The littlest one.” Haruka nods at the shaved ice. “I think she wants to try.”  
  
Makoto wrenches around incredulously and the dolphin mimics the action, lurching her thick head. Kasatka rolls onto her back and slaps her fin impatiently. “Okay, okay,” Makoto laughs in disbelief, spooning some ice and flicking it at her. She catches it in a snap of teeth and whistles in delight, clapping her pectoral fins for more. Makoto launches her three more scoops before the tour vessel starts loading up for the last dolphin venture of the day a few docks down. Kisumi is too busy working the crowd to notice Kasatka creeping up to him, but then she splashes him with her tail before swimming away from his vehement threats.  
  
Makoto and Haruka duck behind a crate to laugh at the scene. Their heads bow together and their laughter fades away because they’re so close that Makoto tastes the raspberry in Haruka’s warm exhales, picks out every fleck of sunshine in his ocean eyes. Haruka’s hand is still over his, pressing heavier, head swooping closer –  
  
_“HARU-CHAN!”  
  
_ They startle backward, looking up as Nagisa hurries down the dock. He heaves over his knees, panting, “Haru-chan, we need you on this dolphin tour. We haven’t had a single sighting today and you always know where to look!”  
  
Haruka composes himself, tucking some hair behind his ear with fingers still trembling from how close he and Makoto were to actually _kissing._ “You have sonars,” he tries.  
  
“That’s not enough,” Nagisa whines, dropping to his knees with hands clasped pleadingly. “Sonars don’t matter when the dolphins don’t like Kisumi. I can only do so much with what I have! Please?”  
  
Makoto finds it a little odd that Nagisa seems to be serious about dolphins having the mental and sentient capacity to not like someone. Even stranger, Haruka looks like he is just as earnest in this belief. “Okay, then.”  
  
Nagisa squeals and bounces up to smooch Haruka on the cheek. “My hero! Be ready in five.”  
  
Haruka scowls and wipes his cheek with his sleeve as Nagisa skips away. He sighs after him, but the sound drifts away as he regards Makoto. “You should come.”  
  
Makoto blinks, still trying to get over how fast his pulse is racing in his lips. “What? On the tour?” At Haruka’s nod, Makoto’s fingers tangle nervously. “That’s – it’s okay, I feel like I’d just get in the way.”  
  
Haruka ducks his head, looking far more lonely than he did sitting on the dock alone. “Do you have something better to do?”  
  
Makoto considers. “Well… no, not really.” He’d just be sitting at the Point for another three hours until his dad gets back, but –  
  
His gaze goes to the empty slot where his grandparents kept their boat – the one lost to sea and storm, just like them. But they loved the water, taught Makoto to respect its power and appreciate it as the gift it is.    
  
He should go for them. He should go for Haruka.  
  
He should go for _himself._  
  
Makoto rises to a stand and holds out his hand for the boy. “We should hurry.”  
  
Haruka smiles in his own quiet way and takes his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: a mermaid sighting at Trident's Point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you, saltyaf, for beta reading! [(archive of our own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf/) | [twitter)](https://twitter.com/poutyharu)

* * *

 Makoto comes back from the dolphin tour with a blistering sunburn and 219 photos in his Camera Roll of blurry splashes – though not one clear picture of an actual dolphin – but he is sure that the memory will stay branded in his mind forever, if only because of the way the dolphins dove through sunset-red waves as Haruka’s hand kept brushing his with every lurch of the boat.  
  
Makoto traces the spaces between his fingers that night, his skin dark with a building tan against the fresh, white gauze. He wonders how it would feel to cradle another hand in his own, peeling the bandages away to break the barrier between naked touch.  
  
His pulse startles quicker at the mere thought of it. After so many accidental touches tonight, Makoto is familiar with the fleeting feel of Haruka’s hands – nothing ever left him so unsettled in the best of ways. It was a fight between his instincts to pull away in embarrassment or hang on and never let go. He’d like to think he saw the same conflict in Haruka’s eyes. It’s a reckless hope he falls asleep with.  
  
The next morning, Makoto is rejuvenated, despite that the air con is still broken and the heat is exhausting. _Luckily,_ there is no hot water in the shower, so Makoto makes quick work of washing off the aloe vera gel he drenched his blistered skin in the night before. He laces up his dad’s old dock boots, drags on his trunks, puts his lucky pearl in his pocket, then heads down to the kitchen.  
  
His dad is still making the coffee and looks pleasantly surprised that Makoto is up so early. The window over the kitchen sink is open to let in the cool ocean breeze, making the old lacy curtains billow.  
  
Makoto is watching blades of sunrise cut through the forest when his dad turns on the television. “Holy shit,” the man blurts.  
  
Makoto turns around and his head snaps forward to gawk at the screen. There is nothing special about the news anchor, but the picture in the corner of the screen makes Makoto’s brain ache to comprehend.  
  
It is Trident’s Point – a live shot with the same blinding sunrise cresting the water. The news anchor says, _“One of the world’s greatest mysteries is Iwatobi’s legendary mermaids.”_  
  
Dad scoffs in disbelief and rubs a hand over his face, dragging up through his hair as his wide eyes dart to across the screen.  
  
“Many in the scientific community dismiss the sightings, claiming the hundreds of videos to be unreliable hoaxes and optical illusions. But even if you put up 99% of the sightings, you still have that 1% that can’t be explained.”  
  
Makoto’s face twists in confusion, struggling to understand. _“This new video needs to be explained and we’re going directly to the source for the answer.”_    
  
The screen goes to Trident’s Point, making Makoto and his dad share a look of dread. Another reporter stands with a teenage boy that Makoto does not recognize. His fumbling hands untuck his button-up and his restless fingers mess up his slicked-back hair. He does not look nervous, exactly – more like, completely dumbfounded.  
  
The reporter puts a concerned hand on his shoulder. _“Tell us what you saw.”_  
  
The boy drawls, _“I mean –”_ He scoffs a laugh and throws his hands up. _“Okay, so like, me and my boys were just down here to watch the surfing,”_ the guy says. _“We just finished finals or whatever and thought we’d just chill, you know? So we got bored after the competition and came down here, to uh –”_ He points backward to the Point’s massive silhouette. _“Here, or whatever, and T Dog was gonna do like, a flip off the dock so I took out my phone, and…”_ He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets and flapping his elbows. _“Yeah, we saw some sh—”_ The programming quickly bleeps the rest of the word.  
  
The reporter has an expression like she isn’t paid enough to deal with people like this, but she composes herself and says, _“Let’s have a look at that footage.”_  
  
The recording is clearly from an upright iPhone with a vertical shot. Makoto recognizes the scene as one of the docks at Trident’s Point during the night, the ocean dark with white flashes of moonlight in the waves. The boy along with some others are laughing off screen, goading the guy perched on the edge of the dock. He bounces his shoulders to psyche himself up to jump, and that is when Makoto sees it.  
  
In the distance is an abnormal ripple in the waves, the push of a _hand_ against the tide. It does not have a pigmented skin tone – does not even have spaces between the fingers, but rather, webbing. The hand is gone as quickly as it appeared, but a tail curves over the water and Makoto knows that fish don’t dive like that and whales don’t have scales that flash red in the dock lights.  
  
Every time they replay the video, waves of nausea roll stronger through Makoto because his brain is trying desperately to comprehend what he is seeing, and there is no way he can.  
  
The reporter says, _“And we’re here at Trident’s Point waiting for the owner, but he has yet to show up, and the assistant manager is refusing to talk.”_  
  
Makoto and his dad stare at each other.  
  
Then his dad lurches for the car keys and Makoto hurries to open the front door before he can barrel through it.

* * *

Vans with bulky satellites line the entrance of Trident’s Point. Every one from news crews to nature shows is out there talking to a camera and all of them swarm Makoto’s dad when he drives up. Riku looks conflicted, not knowing how to respond to so many questions at once, so he does not answer any of them. Instead he ushers Makoto up the first flight of stairs and Makoto does not even have time to be sickened by the water rippling below.  
  
He and his dad stumble around the corner only to find a crowd of reporters interviewing tourists, urging them to exaggerate anything suspicious they’ve ever seen at the Point. Makoto finds Rin by the heat of his radiating fury and Sousuke’s looming, protective shadow over him. Anyone who tries to approach Rin with questions is glared into silence by Sousuke. Everyone but Makoto’s dad, who whispers, “Rin, what’s going on, what happened?”  
  
“Some cockbite stoner thinks he saw something,” Rin snaps loud enough to make Riku wince. _“And he didn’t.”_  
  
His dad is trying to placate Rin when Makoto’s eyes find Haruka. He’s backed into a corner, as far away from the crowd as he can physically get, but he has no chance of breaking through the fray of people. His breathing gets quicker with the increasing volume of conversation. Fear chains him down, caging him in place, and that spurs Makoto through the crowd quicker than anything else ever could.  
  
Haruka tenses at his approach, but then recognition dawns on his face and he looks so grateful that it breaks Makoto’s heart in a hundred different ways. He steps in front of Haruka, acting as a barrier between him and the crowd, but the boy still looks like he is silently falling to pieces. “Hey, _hey,”_ Makoto coos, dipping to meet his frantic eyes. His breath comes in sporadic bursts over Makoto’s lips. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Haruka swallows, pressing his fist against his stomach. _“People.”_ His gaze begs Makoto to understand.  
  
He understands all too well. He opens his fingers for Haruka’s hand without thought and the boy latches on without hesitation, letting Makoto guide him through the nearest door, which is to the gift shop. As soon as the door closes, silence crashes down, and Haruka sinks down in the window seat, heavy under the weight of relief. Makoto sits beside him because he does not know what else to do, and he doesn’t pull his hand back because Haruka still clings to his fingers too tightly. Blindly, aching to soothe, Makoto’s thumb rubs over Haruka’s knuckles in a comforting pattern until the tension drains from him. He squeezes Haruka’s hand gently. “Better?”  
  
Haruka nods, taking his fingers back with an embarrassed glance away. He inhales deeply, taking a moment to let the breeze lull through his hair, wind chimes tinkling over the rumble of the distant crowd. Haruka grits his teeth at the sound. “They shouldn’t be here.”  
  
Makoto tips his head in question. “All those reporters?”  
  
Haruka nods. He does not further explain his frustration, so Makoto dares to say, “Did you see the footage? Of what that boy saw?”  
  
Haruka breathes a bitter laugh like that’s funny in some unspoken, dark way. “Yeah.” He regards Makoto, worrying his lip. “Did you? What did you think?”  
  
Makoto glances up at the faded drawings across the wall, harsh charcoal outlining torsos and tails that demand attention. He quickly looks away, letting out a sharp jet of air through his nose. “It scared me for some reason.” He blushes, staring down at his fumbling hands. “I don’t really know why. Like, my heart kind of lurched?” He shrugs to himself. “Maybe it’s fear of the unknown or something.”  
  
Haruka watches him and Makoto sees the question in his eyes. “Are you… are you asking me if I _believe_ in…?”  
  
Haruka’s smirk is mocking of the word those reporters say with so much reverence. “Mermaids?” He shrugs, but the unspoken inquiry still hangs in the air.  
  
Makoto considers, gathering the strength to look up at those charcoal drawings once more. His voice is distant. “My grandmother believed in them. She told me stories when I was little. I loved hearing them, back then.”  
  
Haruka studies him. “What do you think now?”  
  
Makoto meets his gaze, their shoulders brushing. “I think… fiction is always based on some level of truth. And if they are real, it would make me happy for my grandmother, but sad that she never saw them.”  
  
A hand inches across the seat, fingers carefully folding over Makoto’s. The contact is hesitant, but encompasses all of Makoto’s senses. Haruka’s gaze flickers across his face, over his lips, between his eyes. “Maybe she did,” he whispers.  
  
Makoto smiles, heart warming at the thought. “I hope so.”  
  
They startle when the gift shop door opens, Haruka’s hand jerking back as Nao drags himself in, followed by a disgruntled Natsuya. Nao blinks at Haruka and Makoto, forcing a strained smile. “Oh, hello. How are you two?”  
  
“Fine,” Makoto says, the word curling almost like a question because Nao and Natsuya look so out-of-character.  
  
Natsuya looks up at Makoto’s voice and rushes him. “Oi, Mako, is your dad around? We were looking for him.”  
  
Makoto is taken aback. “Ah, yeah, he was talking to Rin.”  
  
Natsuya nods his thanks and leaves without another word.  
  
Nao sighs after him, shaking his head as he powers up the register screen. “Sorry he’s being so short – Natsuya is the unspoken security guard at night because he and I live in a house boat on the docks.” He rubs his temple with building stress. “Those boys were trespassing – they snuck in after hours, and Natsuya feels very guilty about it.” He glances at Haruka. “But the fact that they were acting unlawfully will lessen the reliability of their claims.”  
  
Makoto shoots a brief look at Haruka before the two of them head for the docks. The crowd is easier to walk through now, but Makoto still takes Haruka’s hand to guide him.  
  
They sit at the picnic tables by the shaved ice stand as they wait for Natsuya. Makoto watches cranes bow in the tall grass at the shore, questions heavy on his tongue. “Do you… do you believe in them?”  
  
Haruka does not need clarification. He stares out at the ocean, watching light spill over the water like it is poured from golden urns. “Humans have a habit of destroying whatever they touch.” He looks to Makoto, blue meeting green like the dance of waves through the shore grass. “So it scares me, too.”

* * *

Makoto’s day is a figure-eight dance of rope knots, a clockwise rotation of ship wheels, and a yanking pull of sails. Natsuya teaches him how to watch the sun for the time since his phone is tucked away in his locker, and Makoto watches it trail across the sky, feels its merciless rays against his aching back. Haruka gives him a pair of gloves before his hands are rubbed raw again, and this time he buys the shaved ice for them to share during lunch – this time they choose root beer flavoring and though the taste makes them recoil, they eat it through laughing grimaces, if only so they can chase the sweetness of each other’s lips from the shared spoon.   
  
A small cargo ship parks at the docks to be unloaded, and seeing that Haruka has been dragged off to another station and Kazuki is running late from his break, Makoto is left to haul crates up onto the dock. He manages the first few, but the warmth of the day drains his strength, and when he tries to stand with the crate in his arms, its weight lurches him forward, but it lands against something solid and unyielding.  
  
Makoto blinks over the top of the crate and Sousuke arches a brow at him. “Need help?”  
  
Makoto is quite at a loss for words, but he manages a stupid nod. “Ah, well, if you don’t –” _mind,_ he tries to finish, but Sousuke has already lifted the crate out of Makoto’s arms without so much as a grunt. Sousuke manages the next four crates with the same ease, but Makoto helps him with the last one and both of them are heaving when it’s over.  
  
Sweat spikes Makoto’s lashes, stinging his eyes. Sousuke dips over the work cooler and Makoto considers it a victory that he catches the water bottle he tosses him. Makoto thanks him and they down their drinks, trying to catch their breath. Makoto squints at the crates’ labels, laughing dazedly. “I never knew _bait_ could be so heavy.”  
  
Sousuke snorts, pouring some cold water over his head and scrubbing it through his hair. “Most of the weight is from the crate. They’re not a practical method of transport for something like that. The wood gets wet and the bait stinks quicker.” He wipes his hands on his black swim trunks, teal Trident’s Point shirt clinging to him with splashed water. He is broader up close, the ice of his eyes flashing in the sunlight, but he does not seem as ferocious now as when he was chasing down a wave.  
  
Makoto bows his head rather skittishly. “I’m Makoto.”  
  
He nods. “Sousuke. You’re new, right?”  
  
Makoto rubs the back of his neck as they walk up the endless maze of docks. “Yeah, yesterday was my first day.” He perks up. “But I saw the surfing yesterday! Congratulations, that was really amazing.”  
  
Sousuke smirks a lot like Rin does, confidently, if not a bit more smugly. “Thanks.” He grimaces as he palms his shoulder. “I’m paying for it today, though.”  
  
Makoto winces. “I hope it’s not too bad.”  
  
Sousuke’s grin twists. “You get used to it. It happened about a year ago, so the pain isn’t anything like it used to be.”  
  
They stop at the end of the dock, waiting for Natsuya to finish steering a bass boat into a slot so he can give them their next orders. Sousuke lounges against a pillar with crossed arms, opening his eyes to Makoto’s voice. “They showed a replay of… what happened.” Makoto represses a shudder. “It looked frightening.”  
  
Sousuke shuffles a foot, boot clamoring. “It was,” he admits, staring out at the water with a haunted look.  
  
Curiously, Makoto asks, “Did you think it was a shark?”  
  
A wave of tension constricts Sousuke’s body. “Think what was a shark?”  
  
Makoto frowns at the tightness of his voice. “That shape in the water, just behind the wave. You looked at it and jumped off.”  
  
Slowly, Sousuke meets his eyes and Makoto realizes that he not only hit a nerve, but he hit a _raw, open_ nerve. “Sorry,” he rushes with a bowed head. “I was just curious. It’s none of my business.”  
  
Sousuke lets out a long jet of air through his nose because Makoto caught his bluff. Quietly, he confesses, “It wasn’t a shark.”  
  
“Then what was it?”  
  
Sousuke parts his lips, but then his mouth firms into a line. “I don’t know.” His jaw grits in frustration and he turns away, mumbling, “Tell Natsuya I’m with Rin on the observation deck if he needs me.”  
  
He leaves Makoto alone on the dock without another word.

* * *

At the end of the day, Nakagawa switches out with Makoto, telling him to spend his last two hours helping Nao in the gift shop. On the way there, he watches tourists lean over the balcony and gasp at every ripple in the water, their phones at the ready to capture the next mermaid sighting. Makoto shakes his head at their efforts and the quiet of the gift shop is a blessed relief from their excited whispers.  
  
He rounds the hermit crab tank and finds Nao hunched over a bead tray with Haruka, tinkering glass echoing through the cozy space. Nao smiles and Haruka blushes in greeting, to which Makoto responds with a combination of both.  
  
The counter is overflowing with organized bowls of beads. Some are plain shades of blue while others are glass-blown, shaped like waves or carved like miniature birds or dolphins. They flash in iridescent pastels and rusty gold, but all of them go together in a very specific pattern that Nao explains. “These are bracelets – souvenirs that come free with the check if someone eats at the restaurant. All the bowls are numbered, so you go by their numbering to know what pattern to wire the beads in.”  
  
Makoto manages the task and finds the delicate motion of sweeping beads down a wire to be quite relaxing after a long day of rough, physical labor. He and Haruka’s knees brush under the table each time they shift to grab another bead and it sends a rush of chills down Makoto’s leg.  
  
He cannot help but steal glances out of the corner of his eye to watch Haruka concentrate on beading. His bangs catch in his lashes and he sweeps them away from his eyes, amber reflections playing in their blueness. His fingers are much more appropriate for beading than Makoto’s, whose are too thick and calloused to be coordinated with such poise. Haruka’s are the exact opposite, long and delicate, shaped by pure elegance. They are entrancing to watch, but Makoto refrains, content with stolen glances. He’d like to think he sees Haruka glance at him a few times, but he is too busy trying not to get caught to put much thought into it.  
  
Nao’s eyes flicker between him and Haruka before quickly turning back to his work. He makes absent conversation, his beading quick and deft. “So Makoto, have you explored the rest of Iwatobi yet?”  
  
Makoto shakes his head, stringing another bead along, this one shaped like a humpback whale. He gives a longing sigh. “No. I’d like to, though.”  
  
“Mmm,” Nao responds. “Haruka, you should do something about that.”  
  
Makoto goes rigid to the very bone and Haruka looks up with an unspoken warning that Nao seems to find more adorable than threatening. In a carefully leveled voice, Haruka asks, “What?”  
  
“You should show him around,” Nao clarifies with all the ease in the world, gracefully sweeping his hair to the side. “Since you’re both so taken with each other.”  
  
Both of them freeze. Tension drops like a cinder block – Makoto fears that the race of his heart is audible in the silence.  
  
They startle when the door opens, reality crashing in with the blazing sunlight. Natsuya pops his head in, curls matted from the sweat of the day, and calls out in a yawn, “Ready to go, baby?”  
  
“One second,” Nao calls back. He reaches under the counter and tosses Haruka the keys – the boy still seems to be in a stupor, but he catches them. Nao rises with a smile that is curving into a smirk. “You two finish those up and then you’ll be free to go. Just leave the keys in the office for me to fetch in the morning, Haruka. Ta.”  
  
Makoto mouths after him and Haruka's gaze burns a hole into Nao’s back before the door shuts, leaving them alone in the awkward silence. Haruka stares down at his hands. Makoto is suddenly fascinated with a picture of seagulls on the far wall.  
  
Gradually, Haruka’s voice ventures. “Well?”  
  
The embarrassment gives way for confusion and Makoto’s brows crease at him. “Well what?”  
  
With a stubborn pout, Haruka mumbles, “You know what.”  
  
Makoto really doesn’t, and Haruka fumes a sigh, meeting his eyes with color filling the hollows of his cheeks. “Do you want me to show you around?”   
  
Makoto’s heart nearly leaps from his chest. Is he being asked out on a date for the first time in his life? _Is this it,_ in this little shop drenched in amber shadows and the echo of waves getting more and more distant because Makoto very sincerely might be about to _pass out?_  
  
Haruka looks at him, gaze darting between Makoto’s eyes and lips and oh God, _what is life?_  
  
Makoto tries to swallow around his heart lodged in his throat. “Um. If you… feel like it.”  
  
Haruka’s gaze softens. “When’re you off?”  
  
Makoto wracks his brain. “Um, Friday, I think.” Whenever that is.  
  
“Me too.”  
  
“Okay,” Makoto says.  
  
“Okay,” Haruka responds.  
  
And with that, they get back to beading, but neither of them pull away when their knees brush under the table once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Makoto and Haruka's date.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a quick thanks to you for reading. <3
> 
> And thank you, saltyaf, for being a wonderful beta reader! [(archive of our own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf/) | [twitter)](https://twitter.com/poutyharu)

* * *

 The week goes by agonizingly slow – it nearly renders Makoto to the impatience of a child, seeing Haruka every day and being so busy with work that they barely have the time to even talk. Lunch becomes Makoto’s favorite part of the day, when he and Haruka sit on the dock or at a picnic table and try a different flavor of shaved ice. Makoto likes milder flavors, like Coconut, Vanilla, and Watermelon, while Haruka tends to enjoy something with a little more kick, like flavors called Blue Dragon, Tiger’s Blood, and Hot-Cinnamon Torcher. They take turns picking and it becomes a good balance.   
  
During the week, Makoto learns more about his other coworkers. Nagisa loves birds (specifically penguins) and they seem to love him too, seagulls swarming him for food each time he steps on the dock. Kisumi has nicknames for everyone, but anyone is subjected to being called “cutie” or “baby.” The endearment of “monkey” is specific to Asahi, and Kisumi wasn’t kidding when he said that he and Nagisa kick back on the balcony with mint juleps and rate muscles with Rin’s sister. Eventually, Makoto gets used to the wolf-whistles he hears every time he bends over to get a crate.  
  
He gets familiar with the other dockhands and their names are easy to learn because their personalities are hard to forget. Seijuro works hard but he talks a lot, usually about Gou, never about any other girls who gawk at him over the restaurant balcony with their cleavage spilling over. One time, he asks Makoto what kind of girls he likes, to which Haruka snorts into his water bottle and nearly chokes at Makoto’s flat stare.   
  
The other dockhands also make an impression. Kazuki and Nakagawa hunch together over a cell phone and watch surfing replays during most of their breaks; Takuya takes things a little too personally but he’s kind, and although Toro looks a lot like Nagisa, he would best be described as his far more aggressive alter-ego. Ikuya continues to wear black every single day despite the rising temperatures, and tries to copy Haruka’s work style; for example, trying to tie ropes as elegantly as Haruka sweeps them together. Ikuya accidently ends up with his hands tied more than once, at least until Haruka takes pity on him and shows him how to do it.  
  
Sousuke warms back up to Makoto in due time. Rin says that he’s had a resting bitch face since they were five and that you get used to it, which is exactly what Makoto does. Sousuke doesn’t initiate conversation, but he’s more than open to answering any questions Makoto asks if they’re work-related. He does his job with strict efficiency and never complains, but it’s clear he would rather be with Rin than anywhere else – they work well together, amongst the snaps that have no real heat behind them.  
  
In that same vein, Makoto learns that Rin is pretty fearless. He’s one of the only people that doesn’t cower around Sousuke – in fact, Makoto’s seen _Sousuke_ bow his head to a few fights with Rin at this point – but Rin does not back down from any challenge presented to him. That could mean being a server, cook, manager, _and_ a host during the dinner rush, or that could mean that he and Haruka take a flying leap off the dock to see who can swim to the buoy fastest with the loser being the one to tell Natsuya that a guy rammed his boat into Pier 5. Rin doesn’t win too much, but all it takes is a few whispers against Sousuke’s ear to get him to be the one to tell Natsuya the news – though Makoto has found that Nao can talk Natsuya down from any raging temper tantrum. He levels him out quite nicely, which Makoto and the rest of the dockhands are thankful for.  
  
As for the others, Rei still looks a little star struck every time Makoto sees him. He learns that Aki and Nii are, in fact, a couple and with both of them being relatively new like Makoto, the three of them end up helping each other through tasks more often than not. Aki is reserved in her own way but likes meeting tourists from around the world, whereas Nii’s brand of shyness tends to make her want to stick to herself, though she is quite earnest about plants of all things and could talk about her succulent collection all day. Oddly enough, Makoto’s grandmother had a garden he doesn’t know how to take care of, so Nii gives him a detailed list of when to water certain plants and how to make them thrive.  
  
As for Haruka, Makoto would like to think the boy is just as impatient for Friday as he is, with the way he starts sighing every few minutes at the end of Thursday, or how _he asks for Makoto’s number_ that night. They settle to meet at the Point the next morning, and when they get ready to part ways it looks like Haruka wants to lean up and say something more – or maybe _do_ something more. Makoto certainly does, in any case, after he’s tasted Haruka’s mango Chapstick on their shaved ice spoon at lunch and keeps rolling his lips in to taste it again.  
  
But both of them look away, thankful for the cover of night over the Point so the darkness will hide the peachy hue in their cheeks.  
  
Makoto’s heart races until he closes his eyes that night, and it starts right back up with the ringing of his alarm. He is so used to wearing swim trunks that he puts those on instead of jeans, but at least he doesn’t wear his work shirt, opting for a faded, cotton thing that will breathe well in today’s 90° temperature range. He gets to wear sneakers, which is awesome, but his tan stops mid-calf, where his work boots end. Makoto is too excited to be self-conscious about something as small as an uneven tan.  
  
He walks to the Point early that morning, hoping to beat the first rays of merciless sunlight. He passes joggers with intimidating stamina and older couples in adorable matching shirts, walking their dogs at an easier pace. Makoto strides along the edge of the beach and seagulls hop after him, squawking for food, making his first sound of the day be a laugh.  
  
The first few cooks are dragging their feet into the Point when he arrives. Momotarou has once again crammed his bedhead under a backwards cap but Asahi has an endless pep in his step. Makoto leans over the balcony and finds Haruka leaned back against a dock pillar, his silhouette outlined against the waves as they spiral with an orange twist of sunrise.  
  
Makoto walks down with his hands in his pockets, mouth parted for words he can never find when trying to get Haruka’s attention, but as always, the boy turns first like he can feel the weight of Makoto’s stare. He’s wearing black jeans that shape to the muscled curves of thighs, and Makoto sees a hint of purple jammers through the rips in the denim. His shirt is white cotton stretched thin enough to get a hint of the tan planes of his chest. His ocean eyes crinkle and his quiet smile is like the sun itself, flooding the earth with warmth.

* * *

They decide to get breakfast somewhere other than the Point, given that neither of them will be working today. They walk the short distance to downtown Iwatobi, which is already crowded with tourists. Makoto always loved downtown, with its cobblestone paths and live music at every street corner. He and Haruka circle the roundabout and the bronze mermaid flares gold in the morning light. Haruka is the first person Makoto has ever seen staring at her with the same remorse he feels.  
  
They find a breakfast diner that smells like lavender, with blue-and-white checkered tablecloths. Blues music croons from a stereo surrounded by yellow hydrangeas placed in glass bottles. The owner’s old hound dog comes over for ear scratches while Makoto tries to make conversation without his voice fumbling. “How long have you lived in Iwatobi?”  
  
Haruka rubs the dog’s floppy ears. “I was born here. Left for a while. Came back a little while ago."  
  
“Oh, I was born here, too.” He unravels his straw wrapper around his fingers as he thinks of something else to say. Haruka is someone of very few words and that is troublesome when Makoto would love to know so much about him. “What made you come back?”  
  
Haruka rests his chin on his fist, briefly swaying to the rhythm of the distant ocean. It’s adorable and entirely absent-minded. “My parents.” His jaw tightens, face straining to keep the sorrow from his expression. “We were settled in a bad area – dangerous. They sent me away to keep me safe.”  
  
Makoto startles, embarrassment churning in his stomach. “Oh, I’m – so sorry, I shouldn’t have –”  
  
Haruka shakes his head with an easy shrug. _It’s okay.  
  
_ Makoto dares to say, “So they’re not with you? Where do you stay?” Again, he’s prying here, but he can’t overcome the need to know the boy is safe.  
  
“I stay with friends,” Haruka says. He watches Makoto reach for a biscuit gleaming with honey-butter and curiously asks, “How old are you?”  
  
“Seventeen,” Makoto chews. “You?”  
  
Haruka’s eyes flash with brief panic like he has to wrack his brain for the answer. “Same.” He uses a knife to slather a biscuit with raspberry jelly and blushes at the prospect of asking more, but Makoto encourages him with an open expression. “You stay with your dad?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Makoto nods, passing Haruka more jelly when he reaches for another pack across the table. Their fingers brush and the contact is no longer a terrifying rush, but rather a deep warmth that sings through his veins. It’s not much of a relief. “I, ah, actually live with my mom and her husband in a bigger city a few hours away. I’m just staying with my dad for the summer.”  
  
The butter knife pauses. Haruka’s gaze roams across the floor, a brief sadness heavy in his eyes. He pushes the emotion down before Makoto can notice it and calmly asks, “Do you like it? Where you really live.”  
  
Makoto’s lips part and the word is out before he can stop it. “No.”  
  
Haruka’s brows raise for clarification. Though he is such a quiet soul, nobody has ever regarded Makoto with so much bare-faced sincerity. Makoto takes a deep swallow of his tea, letting the sweetness coax the words from his mouth. “I really, um. Hate it, actually.”  
  
The emotions claw out of the pit in his chest where he buried them. “It’s overwhelming, at least to me. I can’t see the sun because of the skyscrapers and I can’t see the stars because of smog, it’s just… like, you’re caught up in this miserable haze, if that makes sense? Nothing changes. It’s…” His smile strains through an embarrassed sigh. “Awful.”  
  
Haruka nods with a look of exhaustion that says he gets it beyond comprehension.  
  
Makoto looks out at the soothing sight of the water, breathing a little easier. “So, I’m glad to be here. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”  
  
Haruka does not say anything, but he tips him a knowing smile, and Makoto ducks his head to smile back.  
  
Their food arrives, giving them a break from serious topics. Makoto ordered smoked salmon with cream cheese and it’s garnished with herbs and avocado slices. Haruka, of course, ordered grilled mackerel, which makes Makoto laugh as he nudges his foot under the table in playful reproach. “That’s not breakfast food, Haruka.”  
  
The boy takes a biscuit from Makoto’s plate and eats it in smug silence, making him roll his eyes before they dig in. After a while of chiming silverware and the clink of melting ice, Haruka’s voice ventures. “I like it here, too.” There is something unfathomable in the way he focuses on Makoto. “A lot.”  
  
Makoto’s lips roll in, seeking out the lingering taste of mango. “Me too.”  
  
Haruka curls an evasive smirk against his glass and they look away.

* * *

They bypass the overpriced tourist attractions and the crowded strip mall for a cobblestone alley draped in vines. Tiny hummingbirds dash from a bird feeder as Makoto and Haruka approach, following the sound of static-laced guitars to a hidden book store with Aztec rugs and doors with beaded curtains. The fat, white cat on the counter greets them with a lazy stretch and Makoto is beside himself.  
  
The endless shelves of books smell like herbs and almonds. Haruka finds a crushed bundle of wildflowers between the pages of a used copy of _Moby Dick_ and Makoto reads yellowed papers allegedly found in a bottle that washed up on shore many years ago. They are the most romantic poems he’s ever read, scrawled in Latin, Italian, and French. He even reads the ones he cannot translate; they are still lovely.  
  
After that, they head to the river for some willow tree shade to find relief from the afternoon sun. Lacy moss hangs from the yawning stretch of branches, billowing lazily in the wind. Makoto finds a lush swan feather in the grass and tucks it into his new boating manual along with the bundle of wildflowers Haruka found (and gave him, holy _what)._ He flips through the pages, oblivious as Haruka watches shadows dance across his face, the wind sweeping through his hair. Flashes of light catch every sun-soaked fleck of gold in his green eyes, which roam over the pages methodically, reading left to right, left to right. Haruka’s gaze traces Makoto’s arm from wide shoulder to broad hand, thick fingers clumsy but impracticably gentle.  
  
He glances down at his own hand, spreading his fingers, looking at the empty spaces between them. His eyes dart to Makoto’s fingers and his hand clenches empty air, quickly turning away when green eyes flicker up.  
  
They lounge against the tree trunk, Haruka dozing off to the peaceful ambiance of water spilling over rocks and the sound of Makoto’s breathing. Makoto takes the opportunity to look at him like he’s wanted to, openly instead of stolen glances. Haruka still has a crease between his brows, even in sleep, and the smallest of pouts that makes Makoto grin. His bangs tangle in his lashes and it looks rather uncomfortable, so, like any oblivious idiot, Makoto reaches out and sweeps his hair to the side.  
  
Only when he sees his fingers woven through the strands does Makoto realize what he’s doing, and he mentally prepares himself to do a swan dive into the river and never resurface, but Haruka does not wake up. In dazed wonderment, Makoto pushes his bangs back to uncover the expanse of his face, eyes following the line of cheekbone to the cushion of his lips, eyes sweeping up the delicate curve of his nose and the shadows cast from his lashes.  
  
Marveling, he tucks some hair behind Haruka’s ear to keep his face exposed. Makoto’s gaze flickers to his lips and he quickly pulls away, pretending to be engrossed in his book as the boy stirs.  
  
Haruka stretches in a feline curve and a smirk curls his voice. “You could’ve kept going.”   
  
Blushing to the tips of his ears, Makoto buries his face in his book as Haruka laughs.

* * *

They wander down the coast with their shoes in hand, waves racing up the shore to touch their feet and retreat once more. The dark sand is pliable, the water warmed by the summer sun. Tiny crabs race through the foam and Makoto nervously side-steps away from them and right into Haruka, making the boy blush at his profuse apologies. Surfers paddle out while mothers wade in the shallows, rocking tired babies with plump cheeks slathered in sunscreen.  
  
Haruka knows the best beaches and which ones to stay away from, warning that some of the reefs have fire coral that stings like a jelly fish. He knows where to stick his hand in the sandbar and come up with the prettiest shells Makoto’s ever seen. They look through his finds on the shore, feet buried in the sand as they sit together. The sounds of the beach crowd and their crackling radios give way to the clink of shells as Makoto sorts through them, categorizing them by shades and texture.  
  
Haruka stares out at the water with such fondness that Makoto smiles. “What’s your favorite part?” Haruka blinks and Makoto clarifies, “About the ocean.”  
  
The boy leans back on his hands, squeezing his fingers through the sand as he thinks. “It’s alive.”  
  
It is Makoto’s turn to blink, and he cranes back as he tries to come up with a response, but Haruka gestures to the waves. “Look at that.” They watch them curl into one another, tumbling inside out over and over again. “How could a dead thing move like that?”  
  
Makoto considers, eyes shifting to the sky. “I thought it had something to do with the moon.”  
  
Haruka leans forward with his face entirely serious. “You think the moon isn’t alive?”  
  
At Makoto’s hesitancy, Haruka’s fingers venture across the sand to brush the hollow of Makoto’s wrist. He traces a warm vein, murmuring, “I don’t know you’re alive because your heart beats. It’s because of the way you move.”  
  
Makoto smiles and dares to trail his fingers across Haruka’s much colder wrist, where his pulse thrums. “But I can only move _because_ my heart is beating,” he retorts with a playful tug on his hand, sand between their fingers and roughening the touch.  
  
Haruka fumes a sigh, but he’s fighting a smile. “I’m _trying_ to make you understand.”   
  
Makoto laughs and bows his head. “Okay, I’m sorry. Tell me, please.”  
  
Their fingers are still laced together in the sand and Haruka falters with their pulses so aligned. He takes a steadying breath and turns his eyes to the ocean, making Makoto follow his gaze. “The water, it can attack you,” Haruka says. “And it usually will.”   
  
The lip of a wave hits the water like a bomb detonation, spraying them with mist – Haruka’s lashes spike with droplets. “But it still makes a place for us.” He slides his fingers through the sand and it parts for him. “You can carve an opening in the water and slide your whole body through. It accepts you.”  
  
Makoto smiles, their heads ducked together. “You’re very strange,” he whispers, and never before did his voice sound so adoring.  
  
Haruka looks down at their intertwined fingers. _“This_ is strange,” he mumbles to himself, spreading his palm so that Makoto’s does as well. He gives an experimental wiggle of his fingers and Makoto laughs.  
  
“Do you want me to let go?”  
  
Haruka’s brows crease over a pout. “No.”  
  
Makoto bites his lip around a grin and watches Haruka study his hand, tracing the lines of his palm.

* * *

By late afternoon, Makoto is positive that Haruka knows his hand better than he does.  
  
He is entirely content with the situation.  
  
They leave the beach and stand awkwardly on the sidewalk as they decide where to go next. Makoto perks up, demanding, “Take me to your favorite place.”  
  
Haruka frowns in confusion. “It’s the ocean.”  
  
Makoto’s smile is exasperated and he gives an encouraging nudge. “Your second favorite, then.”  
  
Haruka strokes his chin in thought and then he takes Makoto’s hand in a brilliant moment of inspiration. Makoto staggers after him, Haruka tugging him along as butterflies make a mess of his stomach.  
  
Surprisingly enough, it’s a tourist attraction, but Haruka’s got a mischievous glint in his eye that tells Makoto there is more to the place than what it seems. Iwatobi’s underground tunnels were used by pirates for smuggling the likes of supplies and even full-grown men, who were forced to become part of the ship crew. The tour guide makes sure to stress just how bloodthirsty these pirates were, to which Haruka rolls his eyes at Makoto, who softly elbows him in the side.  
  
Torches light the passage to create atmosphere, but the air is so thick that Makoto cannot concentrate on anything else – he is surrounded by the crowd’s drenching body heat, though he makes an effort to enjoy himself. The roar of traffic is muffled underground but the cramped space amplifies every shift of feet in the dirt. Makoto hopes his swallow is not audible as they journey deeper into the earth.  
  
Haruka arches a brow at him, their shoulders brushing as they walk, fire playing in the blueness of his eyes. “You look scared.”  
  
“I’m _not,”_ Makoto whines, turning away to blush as Haruka smirks.  
  
“We won’t be with them long,” the boy whispers, nodding to the rest of the tour group.  
  
Curiosity overpowers Makoto’s wariness. There isn’t much to look at in the tunnels, except for some interesting carvings engraved in the rock: mermaids. Or sirens, as the tour guide calls them. He exaggerates their malicious nature, pointing out their fangs and claws with dramatic theatrics. Makoto already knew about their singing, that it lured sailors to their deaths, but Haruka adds an interesting detail to the legend as he runs his hand over a carving. “I’ve heard they can die of a broken heart,” he tells Makoto.  
  
That surprises him because no part of the creature looks loving, inside or out, body or soul.  
  
The crowd follows the guide and Haruka’s hand finds Makoto’s in the soft darkness. He starts pulling Makoto to the back of the group, hugging the wall to stay out of the way – to make sure nobody notices them.  
  
There is a slight opening in the cave wall, glimmers of sunlight fighting through the rocks. Haruka quickly dips inside and pulls Makoto with him, dust stinging their eyes, tickling their throats. Makoto blindly follows Haruka’s hand because it is his only anchor in the tight space, and he clenches his fingers a little tighter as he hears pebbles fall. “Haruka, can you even _see?”_ he hisses frantically. “It’s pitch black in here!”  
  
Haruka pauses and Makoto cannot see him, but he feels the weight of his disbelieving stare. “Can you really not see in this?”  
  
Makoto cranes back and bumps the back of his head on the wall. _“Ow!_ No, of course I can’t! Can _you?”  
  
_ “Very well, actually. I see you blushing.”  
  
Makoto prickles with indignation. “I am not –” He startles when a hand roams up his arm, leaving hot chills in its wake, fingers teasing under his sleeve to feel his naked skin, and nobody has ever touched him in the dark like this. The heat in his cheeks rivals the summer sun. “Cute,” he drones flatly.  
  
Haruka squeezes his fingers in an apology that is everything but and tugs him along. At long last, the darkness brightens a few shades and Haruka guides him into the blazing sunlight.  
  
His eyes struggle to adjust but he hears the slosh of water over rocks, inhales the refreshing scent of salt. When his vision clears, it takes his breath away. _“What…?”  
  
_ It is a sea cave, a mountain carved hollow by the ocean itself. Sunlight pours in through the open ceiling, reflecting prisms of yellow and purple off the pool of rich, blue water below. It is so clear that Makoto sees that the sand at the bottom is searingly white – pure, untouched.  
  
He is overcome by the most tranquil feeling he’s ever had, and he turns to Haruka breathlessly. He almost cries, he almost kisses the boy right there because he is so thankful to be surrounded by such peace when he has needed it so badly. Haruka just squeezes his hand in understanding.  
  
Makoto stares after him as he ventures to the edge of the water, and when his hands go the button of his jeans, Makoto inhales sharply. “Wh-What are you doing?”  
  
Haruka looks over at him like he’s stupid. “Getting in.”  
  
“Right now? Like – you mean right now?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Makoto can do nothing but watch, voiceless, as Haruka reaches over his head, ribs curving with planes of muscle, and takes his shirt off.  
  
Why does Makoto feel like the exposed one when Haruka’s standing there with his chest bare and looking at him expectantly?  
  
The drag of Haruka’s zipper spikes the most insistent heat in Makoto’s blood, more insistent than the boy’s gaze. Haruka’s bangs tangle in his lashes again but now, there are so many reasons why Makoto wants to reach out and touch him.  
  
It is more than a relief to hear Haruka’s voice waver, just slightly. “You coming?”  
  
All at once, Makoto has one of the moments where distantly, curiously, anxiously, he wonders how he got to this point in his life, having the most beautiful boy in the world imploring him to trespass city property and take off his clothes.  
  
Makoto clears his throat, trying to upturn his nose. “There could be sharks.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes fall flat. “There’s no sharks in there, Makoto.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“Yeah, I kind of do.” His brows raise. “Trust me.” The gravity in his voice is not to be questioned.  
  
Makoto takes a deep breath. His nerves are livewires (excited ones, but he won’t admit that just yet) and he relies on muscle memory to take off his sneakers, tucking his socks inside them with his phone, wallet, and pearl. He is _elated_ that he wore trunks today instead of shorts because he will be the first to admit that he does not have it in him to go skinny dipping. He will proudly accept the title of Modest Mouse.  
  
At first, it’s difficult for him to take his shirt off, but then it’s _not,_ because when he pulls the fabric over his head and looks at Haruka, the boy is absently chewing his lip, a flush pulsing up his throat.  
  
Which is, you know, pretty nice.  
  
Makoto inches over to the water and hesitates as it laps at his toes. “You go first –”  
  
Haruka’s already dove into the water. Makoto flicks the water off his fingers, scrubbing a hand down his damp face. He pushes his dripping bangs back and a smile fights through his pout when Haruka resurfaces.  
  
Makoto kind of falters there, just for a second, because Haruka is _beautiful_ in the water, body moving to the ocean’s rhythm like nothing he has ever seen. He looks so happy that his skin glows, but Makoto’s brain blames that on the sun to make logic of it.   
  
He tries to catch his breath at the sight, but all he can do is take a quick inhale before diving in. The water swallows him, encompassing him in liquid warmth. Tension that has lingered in his bones for a year leaves all at once. The water is clear enough to see through when he blinks open his eyes, and his heart races with excitement at the rainbow of fish below, stingrays flapping through the water in what can only be glee.  
  
Makoto resurfaces with a big gulp of air, hiking his elbow up on the rocks. Haruka comes up in front of him, the waves pushing him into Makoto’s chest almost insistently. There is something ethereal about touching underwater, but Haruka backs off a few inches and steadies a hand on Makoto’s shoulder to stay afloat. “Do you like it?”  
  
Makoto laughs, dragging his bangs back as he pants for breath. “It’s crazy down there, all those fish! I’ve never been that close to a stingray before, that was amazing.”  
  
Haruka nods, unafraid to show Makoto the full glory of his smile in a place as wonderful as this. “They’re playful underwater, actually. Do you want to get closer?”  
  
Makoto’s eyes flicker between their chests, brows jumping with his smirk, and Haruka splashes him. “I mean to the _stingrays.”  
  
_ Makoto laughs again, it’s like he can’t stop laughing with so much light in his chest, and lets Haruka’s hand guide him back under.

* * *

It is without a doubt the best few hours of Makoto’s life.  
  
At least in terms of the most magical experiences – he learns that underwater rocks are shaded in colors that he does not even have names for; the pigments are a constant shift with the waves and sunlight. He runs his hand over a manta ray’s back as it casts a looming shadow across the ocean floor and learns that its skin can still be classified as slimy, even though it’s underwater.  
  
Haruka guides him through the rest of the sea tunnels and each one is dazzling in its own way. By the time they get back to the main cave, Makoto is exhausted, but he watches Haruka swim and cannot stop smiling at how happy he looks in the water. He dives down to the bottom in seconds, comes up for air only every few minutes. At one point, he stays under so long that Makoto’s heart lurches up his throat, but Haruka resurfaces forty-five seconds later and lets him breathe easy again.  
  
Haruka frowns in concern at his worried look and swims over, making Makoto look away bashfully. “Sorry, you were just taking a while.”  
  
“Oh. Sorry.” He folds his arms over the small rock formation in the center of the water that Makoto has taken as his resting place. Their elbows brush, feet grazing as they laze in the water. Curiously, Haruka says, “I noticed you can hold your breath longer than most people.”   
  
Makoto shrugs. “I guess it’s because I’ve swam since I was little.” At the swim club back home, his teammate timed him to see how long he could stay underwater, and his record is eight minutes, if he can clear his mind well enough. “It’s not as impressive as you, though.”  
  
Haruka makes a face and Makoto chuckles. They enjoy the lull of waves in compatible silence and Makoto still can’t comprehend so much beauty around him, even after hours of seeing it. “How did you find this place?” he asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the tranquility.  
  
Haruka swims around him in a contemplative circle. “I came here with my parents when I was younger.”  
  
Maybe that’s why he looks so happy here, or maybe it is just the water itself – Makoto thinks it’s a mix of both. “Thank you for showing it to me.”  
  
Haruka falters at the emotion in Makoto’s voice, and he tries to swallow it down but it’s useless. “I, um.” He traces the jagged edges of the rocks. “Just… needed to see something like this. To kind of step away from it all. So, thank you.”  
  
Haruka tucks his shy smile under the water and nods. The weight of words unspoken is heavy on Haruka’s tongue, and he tries to swallow them down but they come flying out. “Thanks, too. For –”  
  
God, why is he breathless when Makoto looks at him like that, so earnest in his sincerity to hear whatever he has to say? His gills flare open under the water with how distressed it makes him. His stomach clenches, not like it would when he inhales – water surges through his gills and gives him a rush powerful enough to fumble, “Thanks for being – nice. About me.” He flinches. “To me.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”  
  
Haruka’s mouth parts for the words but he quickly rolls his lips in, letting out a sharp jet of air through his nose. “I’m different. Strange. That’s obvious,” he sighs under his breath.  
  
He startles when Makoto finds his hand in the water, a comforting touch. He shakes his head with a smile that cannot be fought with. “I think you’re special. I _know_ you’re special.” He interlaces their fingers even though both of them blush at such a simple action. “Who else would give me oysters when I hadn’t eaten in days, or try every God-awful flavor of shaved ice with me at lunch?”  
  
“Raspberry was _good,”_ Haruka laughs – actually _laughs_ like he had ever made such a sound up until a few weeks ago.  
  
“True,” Makoto concedes, fingers playing in the spaces between his. “But we can’t go back to it until we finish the list, that’s what we promised. We’ve got like, forty more to go through.”  
  
That will take nearly all summer to get through. It will almost be time for Makoto to go back home by then, and he and Haruka realize this at the same time. Makoto shakes his head to physically will the thought away and levels their gazes. “Point is, you’re special.” As if he cannot control it, he rushes, “To me.” At Haruka’s falter, Makoto smiles so gently. “How could you not be, when you were there for me that night on the dock, and how you brought me here?” He says it like it is the most simple thing in the world.  
  
Nothing about Makoto is simple to Haruka, but he smiles back either way.

* * *

They head back to Trident’s Point as night falls with a full moon guiding the way. When they approach the building, Makoto notices that the string lights across the balcony are still on, despite that the Point should be closed by now. Not only that, but he hears music blasting inside the restaurant, shadows dancing in flashing lights.  
  
At Makoto’s confusion, Haruka explains. “The staff gets together every Friday to celebrate the end of the week.”  
  
He blinks. “My dad never said anything about that.”  
  
“I don’t think he goes.”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
Haruka shakes his head.  
  
Makoto raises his brows at the Point, considering. He turns to Haruka with a grave look. “They might have food.” He is borderline starved after hours of swimming.  
  
Haruka parts his lips maybe to protest, but his stomach growls. Makoto arches a brow over a smirk and Haruka pushes him up the stairs.  
  
Makoto opens the restaurant door and the rush of sound from the speakers almost forces him a step back. Body heat drenches the air, thick and sultry. The floor is a sea of people and the music ripples drinks in glasses, baseline throbbing like a heartbeat. Makoto does not recognize the song, but apparently Rin and Kisumi do, because they’re screaming the lyrics at each other across the crowd. Kisumi is a disheveled mess, drink sloshing as he dances, but Asahi steadies him from behind with hands on his hips. Turns out Nagisa was right about Rin and Sousuke being a little more than X-Rated after hours – Rin’s back is flush with Sousuke’s chest and they’re grinding to the music in a way that makes it clear they’ve done it horizontally.  
  
Makoto and Haruka race for the food table so quickly that they nearly leave a smoke trail in their wake. Platters of left over food such as kettle chips and grilled shrimp are at the ready, and they find a table when Nii sits in Aki’s lap to make room for them. Makoto is about to take his first blessed bite when a shout pierces the air: “MAKO-CHAN!”  
  
Nagisa dives like a pelican for the space between him and Haruka, which makes Haruka pout. Nagisa hugs Makoto tightly, which is his customary greeting, and Makoto’s getting used to it. “Mako-chan,” Nagisa beams with an odd slur to his voice. “Have you had a punch yet?”  
  
Makoto stares. “What?”  
  
Nagisa stumbles for the food table and comes back with two red cups in hand. He thrusts one at Makoto and the other at Haruka. “Punch!”  
  
“Oh,” Makoto says, like the idiot he is. “You mean a drink.” He didn’t really think about it, so he takes up the kind offer by taking a sip. It tastes how it looks – very pink and sweet enough to nearly make him recoil. But the sharp aftertaste combats the fruitiness to create a pleasant flavor, so he takes another sip, then another.  
  
As the night progresses, Makoto has another cup. Nagisa leaves them to force Rei into a dance battle and Haruka scoots closer after he finishes his own drink. He isn’t nervous about doing it either – he presses right up against Makoto, the long line of his body rubbing Makoto at the shoulder, hip, and thigh. Feeling the shift of his muscles is about as addictive as the flavor of that drink, which they share another of, and Makoto finds out that it is much easier to chase the lingering taste of mango on a cup when he places his lips over the shimmering imprint left by Haruka.  
  
Makoto isn’t sure when he starts laughing louder, or when he starts laughing at everything. He doesn’t know why Sousuke and Rin look so languid and in love after the two of them smoke something that smells like pine scented air fresheners. He can’t put his finger on why Nao has this look in his eye when Natsuya hikes him up on the bar and knots a fist in his hair.  
  
In reality, Makoto knows why all of this is happening and the motives behind it. He knows that the electric race in his veins only comes once in a lifetime, that it’s that intangible _thing_ about being young everyone says he will miss. It’s an absence of his insides running cold with fear of the future; it’s done with feeling like everything he does is wrong, like hating the city or getting drunk on pink punch. It’s the first absence of grief he’s had in months and the burning taste of his first rebellion.  
  
It’s that _thing_ about summer that makes someone fall in love in a handful of sun-soaked time and put their whole heart into it.  
  
That thought hits Makoto a little harder than the others, but he forgets what he was even thinking about when Haruka laughs at something somebody said. Maybe he’s just laughing because his face is flushed like Makoto’s surely is, or perhaps he just can’t keep that electric-red blaze inside of him and has to let it out in a laugh that is now Makoto’s favorite sound.  
  
They step out on the balcony together to escape the suffocating blanket of humidity that is now the restaurant. They chug ice water until they’re nauseous with it and thinking clearly enough to remember that they hate crowds.  
  
The marina is their sanctuary, waves easing the tension from between Makoto’s eyes. He and Haruka have complete motor control at this point, but they hold each other’s hands anyway.  
  
Both of them gasp at the boat parked at the end of Dock 1. The yacht towers over the marina, sleek enough to cut through the water and drop jaws at the same time. Its glittering black finish is entrancing, the gold siding begging to be touched.   
  
Makoto meets Haruka’s eyes. “We really shouldn’t.”  
  
He nods solemnly. “You’re right.”  
  
There goes that _thing_ rising in Makoto’s chest, pouring liquid lightning over the last of his buzz. It’s the last drop of rebellion he needs, just one more taste before the sun comes up. He sees the same spark in Haruka’s eye and then they’re on that dock quicker than the next pelican can hit the water.  
  
It is out of a dream. The counters are trimmed with rose quartz; diamonds shine from the countless chandeliers. The walls are mirror, glass, and crystal, with stingray hides draping the floors. It smells like perfume showcased in Paris – expensive to an untouchable degree.  
  
Despite the four decks, massage pool, and helipad, Haruka finds the cheapest thing on the yacht and is dazzled by it. He breathes, “What is this?”  
  
Makoto looks over his shoulder, stepping close enough to feel Haruka’s warmth. The boy’s ear flexes when Makoto obliviously exhales over it, his body tightening with an odd anticipation as Makoto reaches around him. “Oh, it’s a record player.”  
  
Haruka turns, his back grazing the solid plane of Makoto’s chest. This is one of those rare moments where he wishes he were as bold as Rin or hell, he’d even stoop to Kisumi’s level if it would give him the confidence to press back into Makoto’s warmth, which is distracting and making it hard to speak clearly. “What does it do?”  
  
Makoto’s smile is incredulous and doing uncontrollable things to him. “You’ve never seen one? It plays music.”  
  
Haruka nudges him insistently. “Show me.”  
  
Makoto’s smile deepens, ducking his head, bangs hanging over his eyes. He tinkers with the player for a moment, then lowers the needle over the spinning record. They wait in suspense then static pops and a trumpet croons to life with piano notes that just somehow personify the aching distance a breath apart from Makoto’s lips feels like.   
  
Okay, so, Haruka watched these _movies_ when trying to figure out how humans behave. The pictures were shaded gray with age and the stories weren’t that adventurous, but every time music played, humans touched hands or waists and swayed in a way that he may or may not be curious about to a morbid level.  
  
He steps up to Makoto expectantly and his hands flutter about his waist, but he isn’t sure what to do next. Makoto inhales sharply at the proximity and honestly, Haruka is struggling not to do as well, but then Makoto sees the desire in his eyes that he is too nervous to voice. “You… want to dance?”  
  
Haruka nods earnestly, _yes,_ that’s the word he was looking for.  
  
Makoto takes a deep breath, looking scared out of his mind for a moment. His voice goes quiet and deep. “Can I touch you?”  
  
Haruka knew they’d have to touch, but when the fact is spoken to his face like that, it punches him in the gut and leaves him breathless, though he nods anyway.  
  
He lets Makoto guide one hand from around his waist to his shoulder, and Haruka’s other hand involuntarily clenches in the fabric of his shirt. Touch is strange – humans can actually lose their minds or even die without it. They can get emotionally hungry for contact with skin. That was an unrelatable concept to Haruka until this moment, with his thumb absently rubbing the juncture of Makoto’s neck and shoulder, teasing under his shirt collar. He’s warm like nothing Haruka has ever felt; there are no words for how comforting yet exhilarating it is.  
  
Gently, Makoto tugs him closer by the waist and when their bodies softly pull flush, it’s Makoto’s fingers that jerk. He clasps his left hand with Haruka’s right one, holding it up to the side, and then they start to sway. There is not much to the action, but Haruka is realizing all at once that touch isn’t always about what’s physically happening – it’s about how the quiet around them is intimate, how the music moves them this way and that and closer together.  
  
Though, it doesn’t feel like it is the music bringing him closer to Makoto’s lips. A force much stronger is at work, more powerful than gravity, a need so primitive and _human._ He looks up into green eyes and realizes that they’re both scared, hesitating because of fears that neither of them should have to carry. He knows humans make mistakes, but leaning forward does not feel like a reckless impulse – it is more natural than the dance of the tide.  
  
At the slightest graze of lips, muffled noise breaks through the haze. They startle apart, ears straining to listen.  
  
Footsteps patter across the boat deck, coming their way. Fast.  
  
Their eyes light with panic and they make way for the back of the boat, trapped against the railing.  
  
They stare at each other in dawning horror for all of three seconds before clasping hands and lunging into the water.  
  
The waves are rougher out here in the open water than they were in the sea cave, but Haruka’s fingers haul Makoto to the surface. They frantically swim under the cover of a dock to hide, Makoto’s hands wrapping around a pillar to stay upright, Haruka’s arms viced around his waist. They are weighted with dread as they wait to be caught, guts twisting with nausea when they hear footsteps coming down the dock.  
  
They peek out of their hiding place to see Rin tugging Sousuke toward the yacht and laughing his head off at everything in sight. Sousuke’s chuckle is far more subdued, but both of them fall silent when Rin frames his face for a deep, sensual kiss and jumps to wrap his thighs around Sousuke’s hips. Sousuke does the walking for the both of them at that point, and Makoto is momentarily relieved before it comes to him. “Wait, if they were out here, then…”  
  
It dawns on Haruka’s face. “Who was on the boat?”  
  
They find out when a girl’s scream pierces the air, followed by Rin’s scandalized cry. A scuffle erupts inside the yacht, then Seijuro staggers out on the boat deck, hurrying to get his shirt back on. Rin roars after him with a lampshade and Seijuro has no choice but to take a flying leap off the boat and dive into the water. Gou rips the lampshade from Rin and beats him upside the head with it while Sousuke falls into hysterics.  
  
Makoto’s laugh bursts against his hand and Haruka shakes against him, failing to keep his mirth contained. Their noses brush when they look up at one another, lips parted for breaths damp with heat. Dizziness breaks over Makoto’s face at the proximity, and he sweeps Haruka’s drenched bangs away as the boy thumbs his lower lip.  
  
Then all the sensation in his body surges upward to the touch of their lips.  
  
One second into it and Makoto already knows that there will never be another sensation in his whole existence that can rival a first kiss like this, pressed together from hips to heart, navel to knees, bodies cresting with the tide. Makoto tries to memorize the shape of Haruka’s lips and the fit of his mouth, but there is nothing outside this perfect moment, no past holding him down, no future in which he will need to remember this moment in darker times.  
  
They frame each other’s faces, gliding through wet hair, shaping jaws as their mouths close together again and again. They linger to savor each other, as if they have the patience for it, and then Haruka flares to life, licking the taste of salt from Makoto’s lips, and at the first brush of tongue, Makoto realizes that he has been _starving.  
  
_ He kisses Haruka everywhere, mouth searching in blind hunger, kissing behind the shell of his ear, the hollow of his throat, the upturn of his cupid’s bow. Their lips surge together just as the tide barrels in and sweeps Makoto’s face under the water. He splutters as Haruka hauls him back up, laughing as he pushes Makoto’s bangs away. He might have a lungful of water, but he cannot stop smiling. “Are you trying to drown me?” he whispers, nuzzling into Haruka’s forehead. “Like a siren?”  
  
Haruka hums, hugging his arms around Makoto’s neck and breathing him in. “I’m not a siren,” he says regretfully, tracing the shape of Makoto’s swollen lip with his thumb. “I think I could’ve gotten you to kiss me a lot sooner if I were like them.” He nudges Makoto with a smiling pout. “Why does it always have to be a siren, anyway? There’s more than one type of mermaid, you know.”  
  
Makoto brings Haruka’s hand up to kiss his dripping fingers. “You must be something different, then. Special,” he murmurs.  
  
Haruka smiles in a broken way that lets Makoto know he will never be able to understand the gravity of what he just said, and then their lips surge together once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter artwork by [Starshi](http://starshi.tumblr.com/post/161289174710/please-go-read-coral-and-bone-by-the-wonderful)
> 
>  
> 
> Up next: Makoto's grandparents are found.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, praise [starshi](http://starshi.tumblr.com/post/161289174710/please-go-read-coral-and-bone-by-the-wonderful) | [atsurai](https://twitter.com/atsurai/status/870013043609972736) for these two magical pieces of CAB fanart! [This](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/161289584415/starshi-please-go-read-coral-and-bone-by-the) depiction of Makoto and Haru brought real, honest, sincere tears to my eyes and [this](https://twitter.com/atsurai/status/870013043609972736) adorable lil doodle is a good idea of what I picture Haruka's tail like! Your skill is beyond words, you are such a talent! Thank you so much! <3

* * *

 Haruka walks Makoto home that night, their clothes still drenched from the ocean, their hearts still soaring in tandem. Makoto swings their joined hands the entire way home, and they stop for kiss breaks over and over, until he cannot count how many times he’s tasted Haruka’s lips – he will never grow tired of their shape, their texture.  
  
Fireflies dance in the green shadows of the forest surrounding Makoto’s house, the night roaring with crickets and frogs as he and Haruka stand at the front door. Makoto feels bad that the boy will not have anyone to walk home with, but Haruka assures that he lives close by and he will be all right. They kiss again, then just one more time, before parting ways.  
  
Makoto steps into the house and leans back against the door, staring up at the ceiling with a disbelieving smile. The home is dark and quiet, very much asleep, but he feels a presence in the den. A lone lamp casts haunting shadows through the gloom and Makoto finds his dad slumped on the couch, the phone slack in his hand. His eyes are unblinking on the floor and red from crying.  
  
Makoto knows why – that look on his dad’s face says it all, with buried fear surfaced to his skin. Makoto begs to be wrong, even with his heart bleeding out and his world suddenly on fire, he begs to be wrong. “Dad, what –”  
  
The man closes his eyes in dread and croaks, “They found your grandparents.”  
  
Makoto’s breath leaves him like he was punched in the gut – that would hurt worlds less than this. “Are they… did…”  
  
His dad swallows so thickly that Makoto hears it across the room. The man shakes his head and he shrugs hopelessly. “They’re gone.”  
  
His dad hurdles the phone at the wall and it shatters in a thousand pieces, just like Makoto’s heart.

* * *

Though the sea mutilated their corpses, the cause of death for both of his grandparents was a gunshot wound to the head, in the name of cold-blooded murder.  
  
The authorities think somebody hijacked the Tachibanas’ boat and shot them before it crashed into the rocks, but that confuses Makoto because his grandparents did not own any valuables or make an enemy in their entire lives. He does not have the mental capacity to process it.  
  
He relies on muscle memory to get through the next few days – he knows that he has to hug his mother when she comes early for the wake; he bows his head to everyone who offers him condolences. Only a couple of things stand out to him in nauseating detail about the funeral: Nagisa’s crushing hug, how uncomfortable Sousuke looks in a suit, the way Rin’s voice is nothing but a rasp when he tells Makoto with a face full of tears that he’s so sorry. Makoto remembers Haruka’s hand rubbing soothing patterns across his back after he excused himself to go puke outside, but above all else, Makoto remembers with absolute certainty that he never cried. He never knew grief can be so exhausting that it drains the strength it takes to make tears.  
  
Mom sits with him on the porch swing back at his dad’s house after his grandparents are buried. Neighbors come by to offer food platters and sympathies – his father stands in the yard to accept each covered dish with grief heavy in the lines of his smile. “It’s a tradition around here,” his mother says as she and Makoto watch the exchange. “Bringing food to the family.” She sighs. “You can say what you want about Iwatobi, but they always have each other’s backs.”  
  
She wears a wrinkly satin dress that strains tightly around her pregnant belly. Her husband is leaning against a tree on the other side of the yard, but Makoto smells his cigarette across the distance, and it spikes a headache between his eyes. The smell of smoke makes the man’s wallet chain look that much more ridiculous for some reason.   
  
Makoto feels his mother’s fingers play with the hairs at the back of his neck and he wants to jerk away – the touch makes him grit his jaw and all he wants to do is scream. Obliviously, she says, “I think you should come back home, Mako.”  
  
“No,” he replies just as softly. In the back of his mind, he thinks, _I am home._  
  
Her sigh is tight with stress and Makoto’s eyes burn with tears of frustration because _he’s_ the one who is stressed, pulled taut as a bow string and ready to break. Her hand falls to his shoulder, “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”  
  
“I’m not alone,” he assures. “Dad is here.”  
  
She opens her mouth to protest but he cuts her off a little sharper than he intended. “I came here for dad and that hasn’t changed. But now it’s –” He fumes a sigh and turns away. “It’s more than that. I need to be here for me, too.” He meets her gaze, aching from the inside out. “Don’t make me go.” Voice wobbling with unshed tears, he begs, “Please, just let me stay.”  
  
Just like that, she bows her head in defeat and for once, Makoto is thankful that she has a new life to go back to in that revolting city because it makes leaving him that much easier for her. “I’ll be fine,” Makoto smiles. He pats her stomach and she laughs, smearing damp mascara. “All you have to worry about is keeping Ren and Ran happy. You have to take care of them, okay?” _Better than you did me._ “I know you can do it.”  
  
She smiles sadly and embraces him. He just stares at the ocean beyond the house, wishing it would swallow him whole.

* * *

His mother leaves after her husband gives Makoto’s dad the most awkward handshake in existence. As they drive away in a cloud of dust, Makoto and his father let out a relieved sigh, which makes them both laugh for the first time in days.  
  
When they finish putting up the food from the neighbors, Dad’s friends come by to take him to the bar. They don’t know what time they will be back, but Makoto ushers them out, assuring that he will be fine on his own.  
  
Though the moment the door shuts, silence drops like a cinder block in the empty house, and Makoto is left alone with his thoughts. The air conditioning is fixed and even though chills rush across his skin, he does not feel anything. His thoughts race at such a speed that his mind is left blank.  
  
There is a knock on the door and he drags himself over to it, thinking that it’s another neighbor he will have to fake yet another smile for. He braces himself, opens the door, but his mask shatters when he recognizes who stands before him.  
  
Haruka is still wearing his funeral clothes, sleeves rolled up in the evening humidity, eyes luminous in the burning darkness of sunset. Haruka’s brows go high and crease in distress, hand groping for the words to say. The sight of him makes Makoto’s face crumble as the tears spill over, and his chest hunches on a sob when Haruka surges to embrace him.  
  
His unyielding hold drives the broken plea out of Makoto. _“Don’t leave.”_  
  
“Never,” Haruka whispers against his heart, brows furrowing over closed eyes.  
  
Makoto does not remember how they end up on the couch, but that is where they stay, with his face buried against Haruka’s chest to muffle his sobs. Haruka’s fingers card through his hair, lips finding his forehead, and he offers no empty promises or generic words of comfort. He is silent and he stays, and that is all Makoto ever needed.  
  
They fall asleep like that and wake to daylight stretching through the living room. The house is quiet – his dad probably crashed at a friend’s house after a session of binge drinking last night. Every muscle aches from sleeping on the couch, but waking up in someone’s arms is exactly what Makoto needed.  
  
Their voices are soft as they greet each other with tired smiles. Kissing feels more vulnerable now, like being exposed from the inside out – the kiss tastes like Makoto’s dried tears and the warmth Haruka pulled from the deepest part of himself to comfort Makoto, but neither of them pull away. They press closer, mouths parting for gasps, Haruka’s legs sprawling open for Makoto’s hips, and the boy glances down with a wicked smirk when he feels just how much _other parts_ of Makoto enjoy the sudden intimacy. Makoto throws a pillow at his stupid face and stands, grumbling about going to take a shower, the heat of his blush burning through his pores.  
  
Haruka’s voice is deadpan. “Do you want me to join you?”  
  
Makoto throws three pillows at him in rapid-fire succession. _“STOP THAT.”  
  
_ Haruka is still grinning to himself when he hears the water turn on upstairs. He stands up to wander around the house, frowning at a vase of wilting daises a neighbor probably brought over yesterday. He looks to the kitchen sink across the room, chewing his lip. He glances around before flexing his fingers, and the faucet bows to his magic as water pours forth for him. With a coaxing sweep of his hand, the stream of water glides through the air and flows into the empty vase.  
  
He climbs the stairs, grimacing at every creak. Makoto’s warm smell is all over a bedroom that looks like it hasn’t been redecorated since childhood. Curiously, Haruka steps through another door in the hallway and falters.  
  
Makoto’s grandmother always reeked of the oil paints strewn across a table in the corner; his grandfather’s brain seemed to be as disorganized as the mess of paperwork on the desk. Stepping into the room feels like intruding, which it is, but Haruka is urged to say something to fill the haunting silence of the room. He swallows around the lump in his throat, eyes going to the ceiling like his gaze can break through the roof and sky and find those lost souls. “You shouldn’t have –” _sacrificed yourself._ “Why didn’t you just –” _let them have me._  
  
His voice is a sorrowful rasp as a stray tear falls. “Why did you save me?”  
  
There is no answer, but something implores Haruka to turn to the side, where a figure on a canvas stares back at him. He inhales sharply, recognizing himself, and he creeps over to trace his drawn face. She made him far more beautiful than he truly is, with more emotion than he has ever been capable of. The only detail he considers accurate is his tail, so alluring that people would kill for it – they already have killed for it, and Makoto’s grandparents paid that price.  
  
His eyes venture to a picture frame on the nightstand, a withered old photograph of the Tachibanas when they were young, her head thrown back to laugh as she swims in the open water, his head ducked with a smile as he watches her from the dock. Haruka meets their gazes with hardened resolution. “I will take care of Makoto,” he promises with reverence. “I will.”

* * *

Trident’s Point stays closed for a few more days and Makoto’s dad is gone most of time, but his buddies text him every day, assuring that he’s fine, just struggling to cope. All Makoto can do is thank them for letting him know.  
  
He isn’t sure how many days he hides in his bed with the curtains drawn – it’s long enough for hunger to become a physical pain, but not even that gives Makoto the courage to walk through the lonely house and pass by his grandparents’ empty room. Haruka texts ceaselessly, but Makoto has to lie and promise he’s okay because the boy should not have to take care of him.  
  
One morning, Makoto’s growling stomach wakes him and he drifts for a while, just barely conscious when he hears the front door open. He assumes it’s his dad when he hears footsteps climbing the stairs, but then Makoto’s bedroom door opens, and the person brings forth radiating warmth and the smell of salt. The bed dips as the person sits down and fingers glide through Makoto’s hair, a mouth pressing against his slack lips.  
  
Makoto’s senses flare to life and he blinks his eyes open, smiling for the first time in days when he makes out Haruka’s face in the dark. “Hi,” Makoto breathes, happiness surging through his chest.  
  
“Hi,” Haruka says, toeing off his shoes as he pulls back the covers. He lies down to snuggle against Makoto, fitting his cheek against his heart, arms hugging around him. Makoto is frozen in surprise. “I broke the knob on your front door,” Haruka yawns. “Remind me to get a new one before your dad comes home.”  
  
Makoto looks down at the boy leeched to him, smiling incredulously. “Did you break into my house?”  
  
“I did,” Haruka nods solemnly, wrapping a thigh around Makoto’s hip to fit them more comfortably together. Makoto’s hand flutters over his knee, petting hesitantly. Haruka continues, “I have decided that if you are going to mope, then I will do it with you.”    
  
Makoto startles a laugh. “That’s sweet of you.” He kisses Haruka for the trouble of breaking-and-entering, cupping his cheek adoringly.  
  
They lean apart and Haruka’s anxious fingers skitter across his chest. “Will you come downstairs and eat? Please?” Makoto hesitates and Haruka rolls them over, his lips an earnest press. “For me, please,” he whispers, shaping the words against Makoto’s lips. “Just have a little.”  
  
Makoto relents, of course, and lets Haruka guide him by the hand downstairs.  
  
They pick through the food dishes from the neighbors and Makoto samples a little bit of everything, ending the meal with a clean plate, and Haruka straddles his lap to praise him with kisses. Makoto panics, lips fumbling against the boy’s because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands in this position. Delicately, he settles them on Haruka’s hips, but that makes the urge to drag him closer almost uncontrollable, so Makoto rests them on his thighs, which is an even worse idea.  
  
Haruka notices him falter and leans back from their kiss, studying Makoto’s expression. Makoto looks everywhere but his eyes and Haruka meshes his cheeks to tilt his face up, their gazes meeting. “Are you uncomfortable?”  
  
Makoto almost snorts. “No, it’s – it’s like, in a nice way.” His heart flutters. “You overwhelm me.”  
  
Haruka startles a blink. “Oh,” he whispers, looking a bit shaken.  
  
Makoto’s hands shape his waist, fitting there securely. “This is better.”  
  
Haruka glances down at his hands before slowly meeting his gaze, almost like he wants to do something more scandalous with Makoto’s hands, but either way, they are soon kissing again because chaste, reserved kisses are better than nothing.  
  
Just when Makoto finds the courage to trace Haruka’s tongue with his own, the boy’s cell phone rings. He fumes a sigh and gets up, dragging his feet over to the kitchen counter as the phone buzzes across it. He answers with clear annoyance in his tone and the voice on the other end is muffled, but what the person says makes Haruka’s eyes widen. “Rin, I –”  
  
Apparently, Rin hangs up because Haruka bows his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. Outside, Makoto hears gravel crunching under car tires, an engine revving insistently, and Haruka meets his gaze flatly. “I had nothing to do with this.”  
  
The front door bursts open, light flooding the house to a blinding degree. Rin and Nagisa stand on the porch, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. “Hey, Mako,” they drawl with an absurd amount of smirking, inviting themselves in to fling open curtains, shaking the dust from couch cushions and getting to work on the mountain of dishes in the sink.  
  
Makoto is equal parts touched and confused, then Nagisa ushers him upstairs, demanding he change into some swim trunks. Makoto decides it is wiser to not ask questions, so he does as he’s told and when he steps back into the kitchen with his trunks on, his captors whisk him out of the house with Haruka hurrying to catch up.    
  
A Jeep waits in the driveway, polished and waxed to a pain-staking degree – there is not so much as a fingerprint smudged across the expanse of teal paint. The cargo bars are loaded with surf boards and Sousuke is slumped in the driver’s seat, rubbing a napkin over the lenses of his Ray Bans as somebody in the back seat launches through the open sun roof to wave their hands madly. “Morning, Mako!” Kisumi greets, brighter than the sun, hair fluffing across his crinkled eyes. Asahi’s head pops through the opening to beam at Makoto before Sousuke yanks them both back into the cab.    
  
Rin and Nagisa shove Makoto into the Jeep, cramming him amongst mountains of towels and sloshing coolers. Rei is a frazzled mess as he tries to buckle Makoto’s seatbelt. “Makoto-senpai, I want you to know that this was _not_ my idea, _they kidnapped me –”_  
  
His voice is muffled from under a pool float. “Where are we going?”  
  
Hands rip him from the fray and Kisumi grins right in his face. “The beach!”  
  
Makoto blinks. “The…?” He stares at everyone around him in disbelief. “Why?”  
  
Rin turns around in the passenger’s seat, smiling sadly. “It’ll get your mind off things.”  
  
Emotion swells in Makoto’s throat. He parts his lips but there are no words to convey the surge of gratitude in his chest. He’s saved from making a blubbering idiot of himself as everyone piles in the Jeep and Haruka sits in his lap to make room for everyone else, the clouds parting all at once.

* * *

The beach is an endless stretch of white sand against a limitless expanse of sparkling, blue water. The scene is postcard perfection, not a cloud in sight, children running with kites and dogs hurdling into the waves. Though the beach is crowded, they find a spot with Natsuya and Nao, who just so happen to be there, _what a coincidence,_ but the sparkle in Nao’s eye proves the opposite. He lounges back with a novel and Natsuya is four beers deep into their cooler despite that it’s only 10 A.M. Ikuya is with them and he is searingly pale without a shirt on, but he offers Makoto an awkward, sympathetic smile that is genuine.  
  
Another coincidence that is everything but: Aki shows up, clad in a frilly bathing suit with Nii in some slouchy, black trunks and a bikini top. Aki smacks a kiss against Makoto’s cheek and whispers how sorry she is about his grandparents, but that’s the most direct condolence he gets all day. Nobody makes him talk about his feelings; no one tries to tell him everything happens for a reason and his grandparents are in a better place. His friends drag him out to the ocean, throw him across a surf board, and teach him how to paddle out into the water and leave all his troubles on the shore.  
  
Haruka doesn’t surf, but he swims beside Makoto while he learns how to balance on the board without sliding off, which is difficult – he doesn’t know how someone could ever stand on these wobbly things, but Natsuya does it three sheets to the wind even though he wipes out in a crash of waves. He recovers, but he feigns drowning with theatrical dramatics, calling for Nao to save him. Nao fights a smirk as he swims over, and Natsuya lunges into his arms, insisting he needs CPR and sticking his tongue out for a kiss, which results in Nao leaving him to die.  
  
As it turns out, Rei is still learning how to swim, so he flaps on a paddle board in the shallows while Nagisa walks beside him and applauds everything he does. Though Rei piques, _I am no child, Nagisa,_ he quietly beams under the praise. Kisumi stays draped over Asahi’s back most of the day, occasionally dozing off with his arms hugging Asahi’s neck from behind, the rhythm of the water lulling him to sleep. Other times, he releases Asahi for Ikuya to chase after him when Asahi gets sand on his cell phone.  
  
Rin makes a competition out of everything, as usual. He sits up on his board with excitement as a wave barrels toward them and he tells Sousuke, “Bet I can ride that wave better than you~”  
  
Sousuke scoffs. “You can ride my d–”  
  
So that’s how Sousuke gets shoved off his board and not only does he miss the wave, but he eats his words when Rin carves through the water, crouching inside the narrowing wave, his eyes closed with the most serene expression as it closes over him.  
  
Sousuke slicks his wet hair back and smiles at his boyfriend’s peaceful features. “It’s so quiet in there,” he explains to Makoto. “In the wave, when it closes over you. It’s this… it’s like nothing else. It’s complete stillness.”    
  
Makoto doesn’t get to experience that stillness right away – he can’t even stand upright on his board long enough to wipe out. He is exhausted in minutes and flops back on his board to catch his breath, Haruka tucking his fond smile under the water at the sight. Makoto weakly splashes him in retaliation.  
  
He is accepting defeat just when a wave crests in the distance, building at a steady pace. Makoto realizes just how quickly it races toward the shore and fumbles around on his board to paddle for the beach, wracking his brain for all the instructions Sousuke gave him. His gut swoops when the wave lurches him up, rising high enough for dizziness to quiver between his eyes, but then gravity takes over and he’s surging down. He wobbles to a stand, arms out for balance, and when his board cuts through the water, it knocks the breath out of him.  
  
It’s like flying, soaring above the beach with wind lashing his face, mist chilling his skin and flooding his pores with adrenaline. The ocean’s roar jars him to the very bone as though he is in the heart of a storm. The wave curls tighter, sweeping over him in an explosion of noise, and the wall of water blocks him off from the rest of the world. It is so still that the very blood seems to halt in his veins. Dazedly, his fingers glide through the wave, the texture of rushing water like nothing he has ever felt before. He lets out a disbelieving breath, smiling as he looks through the rippling shadows of the water.  
  
One dark shape in particular catches his eye. It has a distinct form, something that looks equal parts familiar and paralyzing. Makoto steps back on instinct, right off his board, and his feet sweep out from under him, the tide mercilessly swallowing him whole.  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut as the waves beat him like fists, punching him in the gut, squeezing his lungs in vice grips. The wave crashes and it sounds like a muffled bomb detonation.  
  
Makoto does not even know if he is swimming toward the surface, but he fights through the water with a desperate edge. Foam sizzles around him, tickling the undersides of his arms. He blinks open his eyes to find sunlight, but there is only darkness and two glowing orbs blinking at him, rushing toward him with ferocity, _hunger.  
  
_ Makoto screams but all that comes out is bubbles, then arms seize him from behind, wrenching him out of the way. He cannot see, but he hears a growl so territorial and protective that the very water shudders in fear. He catches a flash of blue scales before sunlight breaks through the gloom and he rips through the surface, lungs aching.  
  
Haruka’s hands frame his face, his voice breaking with unchecked emotion. _“Makoto, are you okay, are you –”  
  
_ He nods his head if only to get the heartbreaking tremor out of Haruka’s voice.  
  
Under the muffled ringing in his ears, he hears the others swim over. Rin helps Makoto up onto his board, patting his back as he coughs up the taste of salt. Haruka’s hands fret over him and Makoto squeezes his fingers tightly enough for them to stop shaking. He blinks drowsily, watching Kisumi and Nagisa stare out at the water with rigid muscles. Nao puts a hand on Makoto’s knee and tensely asks, “Was it a shark?”  
  
Makoto swallows, throat burning. “No.” He meets Sousuke’s gaze with an understanding that makes blue eyes widen. “It wasn’t a shark.”  
  
Sousuke’s jaw grits, fists clenching in a surge of determination that makes the air tremble. Rin tries to grab him, but Sousuke plunges in the water after the creature even as Rin screams his name. Nagisa holds him back, though he does not stop Kisumi from diving after Sousuke, and Makoto wishes he would have lied, said _yes, it was a shark,_ because now Sousuke is risking his life to find a truth that might not even exist, and Kisumi thinks Sousuke is worth the risk of death no matter what he’s chasing after.  
  
There is no movement for an entire minute. Nobody crests the surface for a whole sixty seconds and it is the most sickening stillness; the only noise in the world is Rin’s ragged breaths like a knife is sinking deeper into his heart with each passing moment.  
  
In an explosion of movement, Kisumi hauls Sousuke to the surface, both of them heaving, _alive._ Makoto almost gets sick with relief – Rin sobs with it. He drags Sousuke up onto his board, Rin bowing over him when Sousuke buries his head in his lap. _“Asshole, why the fuck did you do that?!”_  
  
Sousuke’s face twists, teeth grinding. His fingers cup his bicep and when Rin rips his hand back, Sousuke’s fingers drip red.  
  
Waves of nausea roll through Makoto. Everyone’s gaze falls to Sousuke’s bicep, where the skin is torn inside out by teeth marks in the shape of a human’s mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Haruka's secret gets more difficult to conceal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to [thememeinator](https://thememeinator.tumblr.com) for [this](http://thememeinator.tumblr.com/post/161548766470/i-have-never-really-felt-the-urge-to-make) lovely gif set inspired by coral and bone! thank you so much! <3
> 
> and once again, thank YOU for the continued support! <3

* * *

 They get Sousuke to shore and some bystanders snag pictures of his bite with their cell phones. The photos go viral within the hour, swarming every news station to an international level.  
  
At the hospital, the doctors quickly realize the bite is poisonous when Sousuke spikes a dangerous finger. Despite this, the hospital cannot link the toxin with any known venomous sea creature, and deem the symptoms as flu-like. They send Sousuke home after a few hours of observation, but Makoto is swarmed with worry, guilt, and fear. He does not sleep because those glowing eyes wait for him in the darkness of his mind.  
  
Trident’s Point reopens the next day and his father drives him to work. The man knows what happened to Sousuke – everybody in Iwatobi does at this point – but he looks surprised when Makoto rushes, “Do you think they’re real?”  
  
The early morning gloom hides his dad’s expression, the dashboard lights flashing across his glasses. “Think what’s real?” His voice is a rasp from chain-smoking, his features sunken in a hangover.  
  
Makoto tries to rephrase the question. “What do you think attacked Sousuke?”  
  
His dad downs some aspirins with his coffee. “Could’ve been a smaller shark,” he muses. “It definitely wasn’t a great white; it would’ve took his whole arm off. Maybe a sea krait, but that venom’s lethal. I thought about an eel or something, but that bite –” He shudders. “It almost looks… passionate, you know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Makoto whispers. He forcefully clears his throat. “What do you think about people saying it was a…”  
  
His dad tenses. “Your grandma didn’t ever say anything about a mermaid attacking someone, if that’s what you’re asking me.”  
  
They don’t speak again until they reach the Point, which is lost in a maze of vans and reporters. News choppers whirl overhead and his dad hisses, “Shit.”  
  
They hurry through the fray, ignoring the cameras and microphones shoved in their faces. The journalists ask about Sousuke because his attack is being classified by the media as another mermaid sighting, one that took a turn for the worst. There are even self-proclaimed “researchers” claiming that this is the first physical evidence of the creature.  
  
The Point hasn’t opened for the day so most journalists wait outside the building, but there’s a handful of reporters trespassing the property to harass Rin – apparently they went through Sousuke’s sparse social media accounts and found out they were in a relationship. The journalists expect Rin to divulge information about Sousuke for fifteen minutes of fame and a nice sum of money, but instead, Rin curses them with words that would make the roughest of sailors falter. Riku orders them off the property, damning whatever they threaten to say about him or the Point.  
  
Fury burns off Rin in waves. Riku goes to his office to call the police on the rest of the reporters and Makoto guides Rin into the restaurant, closing the door on the roar of news choppers and flashing cameras. Rin swears for a full five minutes, vehemently, and Makoto lets him vent until he has poured out so much emotion that he is exhausted. Gently, Makoto asks, “How is he?”  
  
Rin sighs, shoulders heavy under the weight of so much. “He’s shook.” He huffs, strands of hair fluttering. “Even though he won’t admit it. The meds make him foggy and he can’t stand it.” He rubs his eyes tiredly. “He’s just bitching about everything.”  
  
“How’s the…”  
  
“Bite? Fuckin’ gross. It oozes and shit.” He shrugs. “But he’s still here; that’s all that matters.”   
  
Makoto hesitates, tongue buzzing with an electric rush of anxiety, and Rin reads his expression with a groan. “Mako, _please,_ don’t blame yourself for any of this. Sousuke’s the idiot that went after that – whatever it was.” He stares down at his teal bracelet. “I know he thought it was what he saw when he shattered his shoulder, but I don’t care.” His face hardens as tears brim his eyes. “I’d rather have him alive than have him know the truth. I don’t care how selfish that makes me. He was fucking reckless and getting hurt was his fault. I still love him and I _always_ will, but it’s his fault.”  
  
Rin swallows his emotions down and rakes his hair into a tie. “C’mon, we should get ready to open.”

* * *

It’s difficult for Makoto to focus on his work that day. It’s as though he completely forgets how to park a boat at the marina and cannot remember a single rope knot to save his life. He relies on muscle memory to navigate his shift and runs on autopilot until he hears a rough curse across the dock.  
  
Makoto blinks back to himself, finding the source of the ruckus at the pump station. An old motorboat is parked there and reeking oil. The vessel is loaded down with a group of men in faded flannels that stretch across their burly muscles. Their faces are washed out from a life at sea – and chugging a bottle of liquor every night.  
  
Makoto stiffens when their fishing hooks and harpoons flash in the sunlight. Haruka stands at the pump station and eyes the hooks warily, but he does not flinch when the largest man cusses at him again.  
  
Sharp heat drives through Makoto, swelling in his muscles. His legs move of their own accord and he puts on his best smile as he steps between Haruka and the bristling man. “Hi, is there a problem?”  
  
The man scowls, his greasy beard shifting. “I wanna speak to the manager,” he says, standing tall with entitlement. “This asshole’s refusing service.”  
  
Makoto glances at Haruka, who doesn’t deny it, and Makoto opens his mouth to speak but the man cuts him off impatiently. “He can’t get mad about what we talk about, it’s our damn business!”  
  
Haruka’s eyes flash with a menace that has Makoto’s insides running cold. The boy leans forward and Makoto touches his elbow, but Haruka hisses, “They’re talking about _slaughtering –”_  
  
“I can _slaughter,”_ the man coos with a mocking wave of his hands, “whatever the fuck I want. I got every right to hunt that mermaid or anything else I see. I pay my boating permit!”  
  
Makoto’s smile tightens. “And do you happen to have a permit for that pistol you’re hiding in your shirt?”  
  
The men stiffen as one.  
  
“Or how about that rifle by the steering wheel?”  
  
Makoto rocks on his heels in the tense silence. “Right. I think you should go because I’ll call the cops as you stay.”  
  
They stare each other down for at least ten seconds. Eventually, the men retreat, and Makoto feels a bit high as their boat chugs away – he’s dizzy, cold, and trying not to shake, which is not out of fear but rather, out of anger.  
  
He levels himself as he turns to Haruka, whose jaw is gritted so tightly that Makoto hears his teeth grind. He rubs the boy’s arm and Haruka lets out a trembling breath, revealing his fragile state. Makoto dares to cup his cheek, brushing his thumb over a cheek warmed by rage. “Are you all right?”  
  
His eyes bore into the water. “They won’t be the only ones going after it.”  
  
Makoto’s sweeping thumb pauses. “After what?”  
  
Gravely, Haruka meets his eyes, lips grazing his palm. “The mermaid.”  
  
Makoto falters because he says it with such _conviction._ His hand falls away in a daze. “You think – whatever it was, you think it _shouldn’t_ be caught?”  
  
Haruka pales. “You think it should be?”  
  
Why does he look so _betrayed?_ As though Makoto just crushed his heart in his hands and it’s bleeding through his fingers?  
  
Frazzled, Makoto shakes his head. “Haruka, it could’ve _killed_ Sousuke.”  
  
“It _didn’t_ though,” Haruka snaps, raking both hands through his hair. Stress tightens every muscle. “And I’m not saying he – _it_ shouldn’t be punished, I just…”  
  
Makoto stares in confoundment and Haruka fumes a sigh. With determination, he frames Makoto’s face and levels their gazes with a low voice. “I want you to pretend all of this is real for a second. Just a second. Give in to that voice in the back of your head saying that all of this is true, just for a second.”  
  
Makoto blinks, dumbfounded. Haruka points to the water but does not break their gazes. “If that _one_ mermaid is found on account of the attack, the world will make it its mission to find _all_ of them because humans can’t be satisfied. They won’t be content with just one or even one hundred – they’ll want full control of the species like they do with the sharks and whales. They’ll put trackers on them, force things inside of them, and they’ll always be hovering over them in a boat. It’s not right.” Desperation climbs in his voice. “A handful of people die every year from shark attacks. _A handful_. But do you know what everyone’s opinion of sharks is? They’re all killers. That’ll be the same story with mermaids if this single _one_ is found.”  
  
Indignation prickles at Makoto, fueled by his exhaustion from no sleep due to nightmares. “That _one_ could have killed me if you hadn’t grabbed me.”  
  
Panic lights Haruka’s eyes. “What’re you talking about?”  
  
Makoto’s head tilts in disbelief. “You grabbed me.” _Didn’t he?_ “You pulled me out of the way, you – you yanked me out of the way from behind.” He did, right? Yes, Makoto’s sure of it.  
  
Haruka hesitates for a split-second but Makoto does not catch it. “I didn’t pull you up. You swam to the surface by yourself.”  
  
Makoto shakes his head with vigor. “Haruka, _you grabbed me,_ I know what I felt and what I saw, there were glowing eyes and blue scales and –”  
  
“You didn’t see _anything.”_ Haruka’s voice cracks, pleading. “Just stop.” Makoto reaches for him but he wrenches away. “Please. I never should have said anything.”  
  
Makoto swallows around the hot lump in his throat. He pulls his hand back and shoves it in his pocket before turning to leave.  
  
“Makoto,” Haruka croaks.  
  
The weakness of his voice twists Makoto’s heart and he looks over his shoulder. Haruka looks so sorry, lips bitten to keep a thousand words from rushing out. “Are you okay, otherwise?”  
  
Makoto’s eyes burn wetly. “Yeah, but I wish you wouldn’t lie to me.”  
  
Haruka takes a step back, face stricken, and it hurts to look at him so Makoto walks away.

* * *

Luckily, Makoto gets put with Asahi for kitchen inventory instead of working on the docks. He spends hours wondering what he did to make Haruka so defensive. Everyone is shaken about what happened to Sousuke, so maybe pushing people away is how Haruka deals with fear? But his emotions seemed deeper than that, more… personal.  
  
Makoto is frustrated for a number of reasons but more than anything, he is angry with himself for not lying to Sousuke about what he saw in the water. None of this would have happened if Makoto had just _lied_ and said it was a shark. But how could he in the heat of the moment? He felt sorry for Sousuke because he surely thought he was going crazy for seeing what he did when he shattered his shoulder.  
  
Makoto feels even worse as the day progresses because Asahi is clearly worried about something. He can’t follow a conversation, his eyes drift from tasks, and he looks tired, but Makoto hesitates to say anything.  
  
When Asahi messes up the pantry stock for the third time, Makoto finally puts a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Asahi?”  
  
The redhead sighs in defeat. He glances through the pantry doorway, making sure nobody is around, which has Makoto tensing. Asahi purses his lips as he leans back against the shelves. “So, me and Kisumi had a stupid fight about what happened to Sousuke.” He waves a hand with an embarrassed grimace. “I wasn’t mad about Kisumi going after him, I got upset because…” He wavers with nausea. “Last night, he came over and I tried to talk about what happened, but then he started kissing me really hard –” Makoto blushes, shuffling his feet. “Trying to get me to shut up, you know?”  
  
Makoto clears his throat. “Right.”  
  
“So I was like, cool, whatever, maybe he just needs to stop thinking about it for a while.” Asahi shrugs to himself. “No biggie. But then I touched his back and he flinched, so I pulled his shirt up a little and – Makoto, that thing in the water _scratched_ him.”  
  
Panic screams through him. “What?” _  
  
_ “Yeah,” Asahi breathes, looking as sick as Makoto feels. “And I _freaked_ out, told him I’d take him to the hospital if he wanted to, but he said no. Asked him why he didn’t tell anyone he got scratched, he wouldn’t say anything. Begged him to just _talk to me,_ then he left.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m real immature, so maybe that’s what happened – I just wouldn’t shut up.”  
  
Makoto leans against the pantry shelf beside him. “I fought with Haruka, if that’s any consolation.”  
  
Asahi looks over with raised brows, the hanging bulb illuminating the surprise in his eyes. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah, now I feel like a jerk. I just want to hold him.”  
  
Asahi nods solemnly. “Same here, brother.”  
  
They both heave a long sigh at the ceiling.

* * *

At the end of his shift, Makoto peeks into his dad’s office. He’s slumped in front of a computer but his tired smile brightens as he looks up. “Hey, kid. You have a good day?”  
  
No, but Makoto nods anyway. “Can I help you with anything?”  
  
His dad purses his lips, taking the opportunity to lean back in his creaking chair for a breather. “I got about a hundred emails to go through before we can leave.” Makoto raises his brows in surprise and his dad chuckles. “I know, right? Most of them are from news stations, wanting information on Sousuke, wanting _me_ to throw him under the bus.” He shakes his head. “Poor kid needs a break.” He perks up. “Oh, speaking of Sousuke.” He pulls open a drawer, dust billowing through the air. He coughs as he digs through the cluttered folders. “Rin forgot Sousuke’s pay check. You wanna text him and ask if he can come get it?”  
  
Makoto does so, but he pauses before hitting send. “I could just take it to him?” Rin had a frustrating day – the Point is probably the last place he wants to be after a twelve-hour shift of answering phone calls about his own boyfriend.  
  
“That’ll be fine, if Sousuke says it’s okay.”  
  
Makoto texts Rin about the forgotten paycheck, to which Rin sends back a line of groaning emojis. Makoto offers to drop off the paycheck and he receives a slew of angel emojis with an address. 

* * *

His dad gives him directions to the address of a bungalow shrouded in tropical bushes and yellowed palm trees. The tin roof and brick exterior give it a rugged vibe, but colorful surfboards line the porch, a hammock swaying in the breeze. Makoto knocks on the red door and Rin answers it, clad in some sweats and blinking like he just woke up from a nap – his disheveled hair and slumped posture are clear indicators of this. Realization dawns on his face when he notices the envelope in Makoto’s hand. “Oh,” Rin breathes. “Fuck, thank you so much, Mako.”  
  
“No problem,” he smiles, handing it to him.  
  
Rin stifles a yawn. “You wanna come in for a sec? Get some water or something? It’s just me and Sou here. My mom’s out and Gou’s at the movies with Sei.”  
  
Water sounds amazing after the three mile walk from the Point, so Makoto nods graciously. The walls of the house are brick, just like the exterior – it appears that the tin roof acts as the ceiling as well. That makes it dark inside the home, but the floors are painted a bold blue to liven things up. Though, Makoto has to admit, the heat is stifling even with the windows thrown wide open. Rin grimaces in apology as he pours Makoto a glass of water. “Sorry it’s so hot. The air con’s broke; that’s why we needed the check so bad.” He hands him the glass sheepishly.  
  
Makoto takes it with a kind laugh. “My dad’s just got fixed, so I know how you feel.”  
  
Rin’s smirk is relieved. He glances about the cozy space with a sigh. “It’s not a lot, but it’s home, I guess.” He scrubs a hand down his face in exhaustion. “It’s been hard to make ends meet since my dad died. Mom just lost her job, so…” His voice falls to an overwhelmed whisper. “So it’s just shit right now.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease in concern. “I’m sure she could get a job at the Point. Your mom, I mean.”  
  
Rin nods, toeing a faded woven rug. “She could, but she’s trying to find something else in her field.” He beams proudly. “She’s a marine biologist. Worked at the aquarium up the road before it closed down.” He snorts. “She had a lot to do with it shutting down, actually. The trainers were abusing the animals that wouldn’t perform correctly. She wasn’t gonna sit by and let that happen even if it meant she’d be out of the job.” He smirks. “So, needless to say, she raised me, Gou, and Sousuke to take no shit.”  
  
“I can tell,” Makoto chuckles.  
  
A muffled voice bellows through the doorway. “Oi, Rin, who’s there?”  
  
Rin rolls his eyes with a grin and leads Makoto into a cramped space with a sunken couch that takes up most of the room. Sousuke is sprawled across the couch with a drenched rag over his neck to combat the heat, but he shudders and yanks a blanket around his shoulders. The cold chills might be one of the side effects of his bite – he’s pale under his natural tan, eyes bloodshot with a headache pinched between his brows. Cups of ginger ale and soup bowls clutter the coffee table and there’s a tell-tale bucket at arm’s length.  
  
Sousuke isn’t wearing a shirt. Gauze covers most of his right bicep, though the cloth is stained red and radiates heat. His arm is bruised from IV needles but somehow, he still looks tough as nails.  
  
He turns to Makoto and smirks tiredly. “Hey.”  
  
“Hi.” He withers in sympathy. “How do you feel?”  
  
“Like shit,” Sousuke grunts. “But whatever. Doctor said I should be back in the water in no time.”  
  
Rin’s face hardens with gritted jaw and the sudden tension in the air says that there’s already been an argument about Sousuke’s nonchalance over his current state.   
  
Sousuke looks Makoto over. “You holding up?”  
  
He gives a weak smile that proves he’s not, but he’s trying. “I didn’t sleep very well, I kept seeing… things.”  
  
A heavy question sinks into Sousuke’s eyes before he glances at Rin. “Can you get my phone charger? It’s in our room. I think I left it on your side of the bed.”  
  
Rin glances between him and Makoto because that wasn’t the most subtle way to ask for some privacy, but there’s restrained urgency in Sousuke’s tone, so Rin nods and walks down the hallway.  
  
He’s barely out of earshot when Sousuke lunges forward, whispering frantically, “You saw it, didn’t you? I know you saw it.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Makoto breathes, grimacing in frustration. “I know I saw _something,_ but…” He rests his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands.  
  
Sousuke understands; Makoto hears it in his voice. “You think it was what I think it was, don’t you?”  
  
“I’m scared to say it,” Makoto whispers.  
  
“You think I’m not?”  
  
He looks up in surprise and Sousuke’s eyes fall flat. “I almost got my arm ripped off by fucking Ariel. Of course I’m shitless.”  
  
“You don’t act like it,” Makoto admits.  
  
“I can’t.” He rolls his lips into a firm line, letting out a sharp jet of air through his nose. “I’d rather have Rin upset at me for being a dick than have him take on my shit with everything else going on.” His voice darkens with self-loathing. “I’ve put enough stress on him. He’s scared I’m gonna go after that thing again, but I’m not.” A shadow haunts his face. “I’m _not_ because when I was in that pitch black water, tasting my own blood –” His breath hitches. “He was the only thing I thought about. So I’m not going after that thing again, no matter what.” He breathes a laugh. “I just needed to know I’m not crazy for seeing what I saw.”  
  
Makoto smiles in understanding. “No, you’re not crazy.”  
  
Rin comes back with the phone charger, though he hands it to Sousuke numbly. On the way to take his hand back, Rin absently strokes Sousuke’s hair almost like an apology, and Makoto sees it on his face that he heard every word that was said, so he takes that as his cue to leave.  
  
They bid him goodbye and as soon as the front door shuts, Rin turns to Sousuke with his voice shuddering into a yell. “I _never_ thought you were crazy.”  
  
Sousuke startles. “I didn’t say _you_ thought I was –”  
  
“But you thought you were crazy,” Rin snaps, laughing in crazed disbelief. “And you never even told me.” He looks up at the ceiling to will away the frustrated tears. “I tell you _everything,_ Sousuke –”  
  
Sousuke’s scoff cuts through the air. “No, you don’t.”  
  
He stands and Rin rears up to meet him with heat building in his voice. “I haven’t been able to lie to you since we first fucked when we were fifteen!”  
  
Sousuke retaliates in an exasperated shout, “And I’ve known how you bottle shit up inside since the moment I met you.” He scrubs his hands down his face. “But that’s what made me fall in love with you, _you ass,_ because you just keep pushing forward, but I knew you wouldn’t be able to do that if I told you how all of this was messing with me.”  
  
Sousuke looks away but he feels Rin’s disbelieving stare. He fumes a sigh. “You work so hard and you take on too much and you didn’t need my bullshit on top of that.”  
  
Tears startle into Rin’s eyes, and that’s when Sousuke gets over himself and steps forward. Rin’s features harden to keep the emotion off his face, but that fails when Sousuke walks him backward into the counter and holds him. “Look at me, Rin.”  
  
His eyes squeeze shut, tears scattering down his cheeks. Sousuke’s heart twists as he nuzzles his lips against Rin’s forehead. “Look at me, baby,” he whispers.  
  
Rin lets Sousuke frame his face for their gazes to meet, thumbs sweeping across damp cheeks. “I put so much on you when I shattered my shoulder. All my complaining, all the frustration I had with myself, I took it out on you. That was enough to deal with.” He swallows. “Telling you what I saw in the water, that would’ve been too much. I couldn’t do it, Rin.”  
  
“You can do it _now,”_ Rin whispers, cupping his hand over Sousuke’s.  
  
Rin’s touch coaxes the words from him. “I saw a face,” he breathes, barely audible, barely able to be spoken. “The day I shattered my shoulder and when I got bitten. They weren’t the same, but – they were there. I know it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, forehead resting against Rin’s to ground himself. “It’s fucking with me. Everything at the basis of myself, it’s messing with that. I’m having these dreams now, and I think they’re about my parents.”  
  
Rin tenses in surprise and Sousuke gazes at him hopelessly. “I guess that’s who they are,” he shrugs. “I don’t ever really see their faces, but they’re…” His face crumbles. “They’re _there.”_  
  
“Oh, Sousuke.” Rin rests a cheek against his aching heart. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Sousuke sighs against his temple. “Me too.”

* * *

That night, Makoto walks out to the dock behind his dad’s house. He sits at the edge to clear his thoughts, trying to learn the pattern of the waves and wishing he could keep pushing on as they always have. A storm rumbles in the distance, muffled thunder echoing through the sky. There is no moon tonight and Makoto feels as lonely as the ocean without it.  
  
He stares out at the water, bracing himself for glowing eyes to stare back at him. He tries to convince himself that he dreamed it all up but he can’t, and he knows that it was Haruka who grabbed him from behind. Though, Makoto would forget that detail if only they could be as happy as they were mere days ago.  
  
His fingers squeeze through his hair. He yearns for the warm, safe place that only exists when they are together.  
  
Miserably, he rises to leave, muscles throbbing from the work of the day. He turns just as he hears a motor rumbling and he notices a dim light break through the fog in the distant water.  
  
Makoto frowns. Boats aren’t supposed to be out at this time of night because visibility is horrible. A strange insistence in his gut tells him to hide in the shore grass as the boat approaches the dock. Makoto recognizes the vessel when he smells reeking oil – it’s the boat full of men from early today at the Point. The men who harassed Haruka.  
  
Reeling, Makoto watches the boat lurch when a man staggers across the deck, throwing his beer can into the sea. Makoto bristles but waits in his hiding spot, narrowing his eyes on the bloody fish hook a guy is washing off in the water.  
  
A whistle pierces the air, cresting high in distress. A net hangs off the side of the boat and Makoto’s heart freezes when he sees the dolphin caught inside. He imminently knows that it’s Kasatka, the small dolphin that came up to him and Haruka at the marina on his first day of work. She thrashes in terror, whistling again, and it sounds too much like a cry for him to sit still any longer.  
  
He crouches through the grass, sand giving under his bare feet as he inches closer to the boat. The men have a radio playing and they seem occupied with telling lies about women they surely never actually slept with, so Makoto takes that as his cue. He palms for the box cuter in his pocket, which he used to open shipments during kitchen inventory today. He uses the dock for coverage and swims into the open water, staying between the pillars.  
  
He won’t lie, being in the ocean is petrifying when it’s too dark to see if anything is swimming around him, but determination pushes those feelings aside. He dips underwater, groping for the side of the boat and wrapping his fingers around the brittle net. He hauls himself to the surface, breathing out through his nose so the men won’t hear him panting.  
  
Kasatka croons, leaning into his touch as he strokes her head. The fishing hook pierced her side – the wound isn’t deep, but the water around her is seeping red, and sharks are the last thing Makoto needs right now.  
  
He saws the box cutter through the rope, fraying it quickly. Makoto is so caught up in the task that he does not realize the radio is turned off and the men have fallen into tense silence. Though, he certainly knows it when the boat lurches with someone’s footsteps, and his life flashes before him when a riffle muzzle dips over the side of the boat and presses between his eyes.  
  
Something underwater rams the boat with a piercing screech of impact. The siding flies off with a cry of metal as angry red sparks set the night on fire. The world shakes, Makoto’s bones giving a death-rattle while his insides burn with adrenaline. The dark shape in the water his the boat with another unholy snarl and the shockwave hurdles Makoto backward, the sky and sea a wild blur as he claws to clear his eyes. An unnatural blackness sweeps through the water, every drop of light absorbed to such a degree that even the sky is darker, the stars a distant memory. Electricity surges through the air and the dock lights explode one by one with a shriek of breaking glass.  
  
More shapes twist among the hysteria of the tide and hunger churns through the water, making fear swell in Makoto’s heart. Beneath the surface, a creature darts in a flash of purple, another one silver, red, blue – blue being the strongest one. They are writhing streaks of living lightning, their movements wild and unpredictable.  
  
A man grabs an upturned fin and the tail coils before lashing out, bright blue light flashing upon impact. That is to say nothing of the man’s hand, which is nearly burned off. Even such a slight brush with the tail resulted in widespread bruising and destroyed necrotic tissue – it is the equivalent of being struck by lightning.  
  
The men shoot blindly into the water as the boat sinks and a bullet rips into a creature with an unearthly wail. Lungs seizing, Makoto makes a mad swim for the dock as adrenaline takes him on an earth-shattering high. He scrambles up onto the dock and makes a move to run, but then he looks down into the water and sees the light of blue creature pulsing weakly, dying. His gaze darts between the house and the ocean – safety and promised chaos.  
  
That thing – whatever it is – saved Makoto’s life. He has to return the favor, regardless of all else.  
  
He flattens out on his belly and leans over the edge of the dock, taking a deep breath. His hand dips into the water, fingers stretching out toward the creature to get its attention. It freezes in realization then barrels towards the surface, vicing Makoto’s hand in what almost feels like – _fingers?_  
  
The touch tingles like a weak electric shock, hot and cold running through him, and Makoto’s pulse stops because he would know that touch in any darkness, in death.  
  
He can only watch as wet hair gleams like black silk. A face surfaces, skin smoother than a pearl, and then comes shoulders, pretty ones that Makoto’s wanted to run his lips over. Shock leaves his whole body energized yet numb. He is hollow with disbelief as Haruka gasps for breath, the slashes in his neck flaring – gills, they’re freaking _gills._  
  
And then Makoto sees it.  
  
“It” being the throbbing strip of light where Haruka’s legs should be. “It” being the length of scales like sapphires soaked in honey, blue pouring into a center line of yellow diamonds. “It” being the tail flaring out into a fin, “it” being the fact that Makoto is staring into the eyes of a mermaid and the love of his life at the very same time.  
  
Under the luminous iridescence of his skin, Haruka looks remorsefully apologetic, his brows creased over eyes that literally _glitter._  
  
Reality crashes back in when Haruka’s face twists, and the sound he makes might be foreign to Makoto, but it’s very clearly pained. A red cloud billows around him in the water and the realization cuts through Makoto like a hot knife: Haruka was shot. _He got shot saving Makoto._  
  
Forcefully, he shakes himself and swallows the acrid taste of fear. He levels their gazes as Haruka blinks drowsily, the light quickly leaving his eyes. “I need to lift you out, Haruka, you’re bleeding. Please.”  
  
He looks faintly surprised, but he weakly hugs his arms around Makoto’s neck. It takes every ounce of Makoto’s strength to haul him from the ocean; the waves spiral around Haruka as though they’re trying to suck him back in, but Makoto pulls him free and drags him up onto the dock.  
  
He cannot find air as he takes in the full glory of an actual mermaid. Fins veined with gold stretch from Haruka’s forearms and the barbs on the end of his tail-fin are so sharp that they could cut the electrons off an atom. More gills curve to the swell of his ribs. His tail is astounding up close, and though his scales are beautiful, they’re textured like chain mail.  
  
Given that he’s… well, kind of a fish, Makoto isn’t sure that taking him out of the water was the best idea in the world, but the men in the boat refuse to go down without firing every bullet they have, so he folds Haruka up bridal style and rises to his feet, fierce protection surging through his chest.  
  
Just before he takes his first step, a small hand vices around his ankle. Makoto looks down and he gasps as Nagisa stares back from the water, his molten-pink tail flapping anxiously.  
  
He almost blacks out from the shock, darkness eating at the edges of his vision, but he quickly levels himself. “He’s hurt,” he frantically whispers. “I’ll take care of him, please.”  
  
Nagisa breathes out, gills quivering. Conflict rushes across his face, then his features harden with trust in Makoto and he lets go. A bullet sings by and arms wrap around Nagisa from behind to pull him back into the safety of the water. Makoto catches Kisumi’s eyes before he drags Nagisa under with a lash of his tail, scales colored in bursts of purple like an Iris flower.  
  
Wavering, Makoto stares down at Haruka with a thousand questions heavy on his tongue. Haruka lets out a suffering warble and buries his face against Makoto’s neck, seeking his comforting warmth, and he decides that questions can wait.  
  
Makoto sprints all the way to the driveway, gravel digging into his bare feet. His dad’s Honda is gone, probably still at the bar, which is both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because he’s not here to see Haruka, but a curse because Makoto has no way of getting him to a hospital now. But that plan is a bust, anyway – Haruka is too delirious to change back into a human (however that works), so Makoto rushes into the house instead. He bumps into the coat rack and sends it crashing to the floor; he stumbles into every wall and nearly trips going up the stairs in his panic.  
  
His muscles ache with relief as he lowers Haruka into the bath tub, sloshing warm water out as he does so. Makoto tries to take a deep breath but he chokes on it, tries again and manages to level himself. He rakes a hand through his hair as he wracks his brain to remember all the steps his step-father told him about caring for a gunshot wound as a paramedic. He rips his shirt off to tie it around where Haruka’s knees should be, which is right above his wound. He presses a towel against it to apply pressure and Haruka groans – it’s very much his real voice, the one that Makoto recognizes at least; not the curling whistle or yawning croon the boy, _the mermaid,_ has been making in his agony.  
  
Makoto is gentle in toweling off the wound, but Haruka’s flingers clench the lip of the tub and crush the porcelain in a startling burst of strength. Makoto lets out a near-cry of relief when he realizes that the bullet just grazed Haruka, shredding through a few outer layers of scales, which shouldn’t cause any fatal damage.  
  
Nervously, Haruka’s eyes flicker over his relieved expression. Their gazes meet and not only does Makoto have to look away from his eyes, but his tail as well. “It’s, um.” His voice wavers as he scrambles for coherent brain cells. “The – it just… grazed you. I think you’ll be fine. It’ll just… hurt.”  
  
Haruka does not say anything in the rigid quiet. Makoto keeps pressure on the wound and eventually, it stops bleeding, so he drains the tub to fill it with clear, clean water rather than water stained pink. Tense silence stretches like an electric fence between him and Haruka. The only noise is the water dripping off his fin, which is swooped over the tub, right in Makoto’s peripheral vision – he tries not to look but it’s just _there._ The very core of himself is falling, disappearing with the world of ignorance he lived in just minutes ago. The world he will never get back.  
  
Haruka croaks, “You shouldn’t have gone into the ocean.”  
  
Makoto slowly comprehends his words, brain scrambling. Dying adrenaline sets him on fire but his insides are cold. His voice is a hollow rasp. “I – I don’t know. I saw Kasatka and… and she was scared.” It’s that simple, really. That stupid. “I didn’t even think about it.”  
  
Distress hitches Haruka’s voice. “You could have been killed, Makoto.”  
  
“So could you,” he scoffs, leaning back on his haunches in disbelief.  
  
Haruka sits up, the very water around him vibrating with his turmoil. “I was going to get her out –”  
  
“There’s no way I could’ve known that,” Makoto says, a little harsher, a little more hurt than he anticipated.  
  
They both look away and their one point of contact, the towel, leaves as Makoto pulls away. The ache to be close is a physical ache in both of their chests.  
  
Haruka sighs in defeat. “We’re called Derketo.”  
  
Makoto’s gaze climbs the length of his tail to look at his face. The faint scattering of scales down Haruka’s cheekbone glows pink in the low light. “We don’t usually call ourselves mermaids,” Haruka explains. “It’s Derketo.” He looks away, self-consciously bringing his tail in like he would draw his knees against his chest. “The first record of a ‘mermaid’ was thousands of years ago in Assyria. Her name was Atargatis, but she was full of magic long before she belonged to the water. She couldn’t control her power and unintentionally killed the man she loved. She was so ashamed that she cast herself into the sea but she was too beautiful to become a fish, so…”  
  
A dull light bulb sparks to life in Makoto’s head. “So… half-fish.” Nausea rolls through him. “All of that’s true?”  
  
Haruka’s nod is apologetic. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard it is, knowing all of a sudden.” His eyes flicker to his tail. “But I owe you an explanation, if you want to hear it. Or I could leave, if you want –”  
  
“No,” Makoto rushes, because _no._ He parts his lips, chokes on the words, then swallows hard and tries again. “You said you’d stay with me. That you wouldn’t leave.”  
  
Emotion sinks into Haruka’s features. He leans over the tub, the water rippling with the movement and dripping down the hand he cards through Makoto’s hair. Haruka’s breath touches his mouth and it’s like a burst of sweet salt off a crashing wave. His tail glows in the intimate darkness of the room, the shape of his lips carved by the sea itself. His voice falls to a reverent whisper as he levels their gazes. “I would stay with you until the last drop of the ocean dies.” His smile is pained, though understanding. “But I don’t know if you want that.”  
  
Makoto’s only response is fluttering his hand around Haruka’s wrist, then clinging to it. He breathes hard. “Why are you called Derketo?”  
  
Haruka is encouraged by Makoto’s open expression. “The Greeks knew Atargatis by the name of Derketo and since most of our…” He gestures for the word and the translucent webbing stretches between his fingers. “Most of our _diversity_ occurred in the Greek legends, so we go by their name for us.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease. “Diversity?”  
  
Haruka hesitates, his thumb pausing in sweeping across Makoto’s cheek. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not a siren. I’m not the same species of Derketo as – most others.”  
  
“You mean as Nagisa and Kisumi?”  
  
Something about Haruka’s guarded expression makes Makoto’s stomach drop. “There’s more of you?”  
  
Haruka looks away and Makoto’s voice cracks on a shout. _“More of you that I know?”  
  
_ Haruka’s gills tighten against his neck as he winces. It seems like a Derketo’s gills flare or close with emotional responses. “We have an annual migration to Iwatobi every summer to have children or bond.” When Makoto’s face twists with confusion, Haruka blushes, the scales across his cheeks warming with a peach hue. “I mean mate.” 

  
Disorientation shakes him. “Can all of you change into…”  
  
“Humans? We all have the ability to, if that’s what you mean. Not all of us choose to do it but…” His face is heavy with grief. “We don’t have much of a choice but to change. Our ocean is dying.”  
  
It is not even a question as to why. “Because of humans. It’s the pollution, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yes. And your technology is evolving too quickly; we’re running out of places to stay hidden from you, so many Derketo think it’s safest to hide _among_ humans. We started doing it hundreds of years ago and it resulted in Derketo bonding with your kind.”   
  
Makoto falters. “You can have children with humans?”  
  
Haruka nods. “Now our genes have intertwined with yours. We have a human part of ourselves that yearns for touch, companionship.”  
  
“Is that what you came to Iwatobi for?”  
  
“No.” Haruka gives him a considering sweep of his eyes. “Not intentionally. The migration is an unspoken rule whether you want a mate or not, but my parents sent me early. I wasn’t lying about that.” He shakes his head earnestly. “I haven’t lied to you about anything, I just didn’t tell you about _this._ I couldn’t.”  
  
Makoto almost asks why but it’s a little too obvious. Still, betrayal burns weakly in his chest, and Haruka sees it on his face. “I came because I heard there was a place in Iwatobi that helped Derketo start their lives as humans. That’s why Nagisa and the others are here, too.”  
  
It takes Makoto a moment before the realization strikes him like a physical blow. “Trident’s Point?”  
  
Haruka doesn’t nod, but it’s clear that is the answer.  
  
Makoto slumps back against the wall as the room tilts. “So, she really did know,” he breathes, eyes vacant on the floor. “My grandmother knew about you.”  
  
Without thought, Haruka reaches for him but then hesitates, staring down at the new differences between their hands – webbing and blue nails against tan skin and calluses. Ashamed, Haruka pulls away, but Makoto clings to his fingers in blind desperation. He takes a steadying breath. “You need bandages. Can you, um –”  
  
Can Makoto ask him to change back? To the Derketo, is that like asking for him to take off his clothes or something? Not to mention, “Do you need to go back to the ocean, or...?”  
  
Hurt flashes in his eyes, though he sounds understanding. “Do you want me to go back? I will, if that’s –”  
  
“No,” Makoto assures with a quick shake of his head. “Please, stay where it’s safe.” His gut twists. “What about Nagisa and Kisumi?”  
  
“They will be fine; sirens are ferocious.”  
  
Makoto catches himself on his palms when he almost passes out and Haruka’s hands fret over him. “Sorry! I mean – surprise? Those exist too?”  
  
Makoto stares at him in dazed wonderment. “What are you, if you aren’t a siren?”  
  
Haruka looks a bit shy. “Nereid.”  
  
“Nereid,” Makoto breathes, liking how it rolls off his tongue. “That’s beautiful,” he says, simply because it is.    
  
Haruka ducks the lower half of his face underwater to blush.

* * *

Makoto respectfully leaves the bathroom when Haruka shifts forms, though he nearly busts the door down to get back inside when he hears him sob a foreign curse. Apparently, the bullet wound did not appreciate the sudden change from scales to skin and started bleeding again. As a human, the wound skirts the edge of Haruka’s left calf.  
  
Makoto gives him a pair of boxers and a t-shirt before sweeping him up in his arms. Haruka flusters at the show of strength and Makoto grins, carrying him into the bedroom to lower him onto the mattress. From there, Makoto bandages the wound with the upmost care, hushing all of Haruka’s whimpers. His neck stretches out as he grimaces and Makoto notices that his gills have closed up. His scales are also gone, as are his forearm fins.  
  
Makoto finishes up and tucks Haruka under the covers, stroking his damp hair. They watch each other, Makoto’s fingers playing in the new, empty spaces between Haruka’s. “Thank you, by the way,” Makoto mumbles around a smile. “For saving my life.”  
  
Haruka shakes his head tiredly, dipping forward and whispering against his mouth, “You saved mine.”  
  
Makoto leans back with a soft smack between their lips, wanting to say more, but Haruka’s breathing has already evened out and his eyes have slipped closed. Makoto sighs, pressing a kiss against his forehead and tucking their faces together. He draws Haruka close, breathing him in, and everything about the boy is human in this moment – the heat of his skin, the way he snuggles into Makoto for more warmth. With Haruka against him, he feels at peace with the most primitive parts of himself, but a turmoil of emotions refuses to let him sleep.  
  
His feet move of their own accord to his grandparents’ room. Their familiar, comforting scent lingers in the reading chair and seashell-patterned comforter; he fears the day their smell disappears forever. He wanders over to his grandmother’s art corner by the window and imminently recognizes the mermaid painted on the canvas perched on the easel. Makoto’s smile is pained as he traces Haruka’s face, trailing down to learn the shape of his fin.  
  
Makoto drifts over to the nightstand and lifts the black-and-white photograph of his grandparents when they first opened Trident’s Point. His grandfather sits on the dock as his grandmother laughs from the water, and though the picture was taken decades ago, Makoto recognizes her younger face. He feels like he’s seen it somewhere other than this photograph, but where?  
  
He studies her hair whipping across her face as she fights the wind. He stares and stares until he drops the picture frame in realization, his mind shattering with the glass.  
  
Breath leaving him in a rush, he picks up the frame and runs the whole way to downtown Iwatobi. The lamp posts illuminate the empty streets, hanging ferns swaying hauntingly in the breeze. Makoto stumbles to the central fountain, night shadowing the mermaid as he looks at the photograph once more.  
  
The statue that his grandfather built has his grandmother’s face. Though the expressions are different, the flowing hair and soft features are precisely the same. With a trembling hand, Makoto pulls the photograph out of the broken frame, glass shards tinkling to the ground – he can barely hear it over the pounding of his heartbeat.  
  
The photograph was folded to fit the frame and when he unfolds the whole picture, he cannot comprehend the immensity of what he is seeing. When the weight of reality strikes, his knees give out.  
  
In the picture, his grandmother is laughing from the water because she has a tail, and it was beautiful – a deep, bronze color, just like the statue’s. But now the statue’s grief-stricken expression is that much more confusing to Makoto because his grandmother is smiling in the picture.  
  
His own voice, lighter with childhood, echoes in his head. _“Why does the mermaid look so scared?”_  
  
He remembers Haruka’s fear-driven rage over the men at the docks, the sorrow in his voice when he said that there are less places for Derketo to hide, _to be safe._ Every stolen glance races through his mind; each brush of fingers and knees and lips rushes across his skin. All sound and sensation fades away when he remembers Haruka’s broken smile.  
  
_“Why does the mermaid look so scared?”  
  
_ He visualizes the hundreds of journalists and tourists swarming the Point. The men at the docks. The entire world of ignorant, awful people.  
  
His grandfather’s voice resonates through his very bones as he stares into the statue’s petrified eyes. _“You’ll know why one day.”  
  
_ He runs back home faster than he ever has and throws open the front door with a startling bang, then tumbles up the stairs and races into his bedroom just as Haruka blinks awake. Heart roaring, Makoto crawls up the bed to straddle him and bows to frame his face for an earnest kiss.  
  
Haruka moans, fingers squeezing through Makoto’s hair with the relief of having him close. Their lips part to taste, hands roaming with hunger, and it does not take long for Makoto to get out of breath. He rests his forehead against Haruka’s with a dazed laugh. “She was one of you, wasn’t she?”  
  
Haruka’s smile aches. “Yes.”  
  
Makoto laughs again, ready to fly apart with joy, and cradles his face adoringly. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”  
  
Haruka stiffens, his eyes lighting with cautious hope. Makoto kisses his slack lips, smiling under his wide-eyed stare. “I’ll stay with you,” he whispers, resting their foreheads together as their eyes lock. “Until the last drop dies, right?”  
  
Haruka’s lashes spike with tears and he surges against his mouth as the tide rolls in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: the other mermaids reveal themselves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to [erengelion](http://erengelion.tumblr.com/) for [this](http://erengelion.tumblr.com/post/161723885810/nothing-better-than-kicking-your-feet-up-on-the) hilarious depiction of kisumi, nagisa, and gou kicking back at trident's point and rating muscles! 
> 
> a lifetime supply of halsey tickets to [starshi](http://starshi.tumblr.com/post/161289174710/please-go-read-coral-and-bone-by-the-wonderful) | [atsurai](https://twitter.com/atsurai/status/870013043609972736) for [this](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/161698656930/starshi-i-love-mermanharu-that-is-all-go) unbelievably realistic depiction of mer!haru! thank you so much! 
> 
> and thank you a thousand times over to saltyaf, for beta reading! [(archive of our own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf/) | [twitter)](https://twitter.com/poutyharu)

* * *

* * *

 Songbirds wake them in the morning, calling them from the warm darkness of their dreams. Makoto pulls Haruka closer to his chest, smiling into the gentle pressure against his mouth. They fell asleep kissing, mouths closing so softly together with bangs caught in their half-lidded eyes. Fear of the future lingered cold in their bones, but being wrapped up in each other didn’t leave much room for worries.  
  
The crash of the rising tide muffles the sound of Makoto and Haruka sneaking through the house, but Riku isn’t likely to wake up from his blackout any time soon. The sun rises and burning pink colors the house like an oil painting as molten violet pours into the ocean like a liquid fire. Haruka eases off the dock and slips into the ocean, sighing heavily in relief. He ducks under the water and surfaces with newfound vigor, his fin kicking powerfully, though he hands Makoto his soaked clothes back rather sheepishly.  
  
The dock is empty and quiet, such a contrast to the chaos of last night. Makoto hesitates to ask, “Do you know what happened to that group of men?”  
  
Haruka swims in a thoughtful circle. “Kisumi and Nagisa might have let them go. Sirens are good with _vélos.”_ He grimaces in adorable embarrassment. “Veils, I mean. They’re spells that keep humans unaware of us. The men won’t have their boat,but they won’t remember how it was lost and they won’t remember us.” He shakes his head at Makoto’s look of worry. “The only physical side effects are drowsiness and confusion – and maybe a gut-feeling to never go hunting again.”  
  
“Oh. All right.” Makoto smiles as Haruka raises his fin out of the water to inspect it. “You’re healing remarkably fast.” Scales have already built up around his wound. “Is that part of being a…”  
  
Haruka flusters, arms working to stay upright. “It’s more about being a Nereid than a Derketo. Nereids are the strongest, physically, but we get sick easily. We can also stay underwater longer than any other species.”  
  
Makoto perks up with interest. “How long?”  
  
Haruka shrugs as he folds his elbows on the dock, carefully maneuvering the sharp fins on his forearms.  “A few days usually, but I once stayed under for an entire week when we were migrating through an oil spill. As a species, Nereids travel in one big group, though we’re still very reclusive.” He sighs, gills flaring. “I’ve heard of a time when we were friendly but that was before the Trojan War.” A shadow haunts his face. “It changed everything.”  
  
Makoto’s stomach drops into a cold pit. “You weren’t _– you_ weren’t there, were you?” He does not know much about Greek mythology, but the Trojan War was dated thousands of years ago. He wasn’t even aware that it had actually happened; historians confirmed it to be a fictional event but Makoto might be sitting in front of someone who _witnessed_ it.  
  
Haruka blinks, then understanding lights his eyes. “No, I wasn’t there. We have lifespans similar to humans. I _am_ really seventeen.” He pats Makoto’s hand, scales flashing in the sun rays. “I’ve only heard stories about the Trojan War. All the gods picked a side, you see – they either supposed the Greeks or the Trojans.”  
  
“Oh.” And then Makoto’s brain catches up. His sanity flutters away with the breeze. _“What do you mean the gods?”_  
  
Haruka looks away nervously. “Uh. The Greek ones?”  
  
Dizziness breaks over Makoto’s cheeks.  
  
Haruka winces. “They’re not very active anymore, if that helps any. They gained their power through sacrifices, rituals, _believers._ I don’t see them ever returning to their former glory.”  
  
Makoto relaxes a bit at that, but he’s still reeling.  
  
“The Nereids are led by a goddess named Thetis,” Haruka explains, speaking carefully for Makoto to follow. “Her son, Achilles, was killed in the Trojan War.”  
  
That lights a dim bulb in Makoto’s head; the name is distantly familiar under the shock that he was a _real person._  
  
“Ever since then, Thetis has feared humans and led us to feel the same. That’s what I mean when I say the war changed everything. After that, people stopped believing in the gods until they forgot they ever existed.” Briefly, he smiles sadly up at the moon as it fades in the morning light. “The Titans went back to the sky; Pisces swims through the stars now. Some gods walk among the humans and others cast their children into the sea to protect them from man. That’s where the different species of Derketo come from – we’re the decedents of different gods.”  
  
“Wow,” Makoto breathes, shocked in the most fantastical way. “And all of you migrate to Iwatobi every summer?”  
  
Haruka nods, features sinking in dread. “The Derketo will be the first piece of mythology humans will realize is true. From there, no other creature in hiding will be safe.”  
  
Fretfully, Makoto leans down to cup Haruka’s face, marveling at the roughness of the scales across his cheek. “I wish I could help somehow.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I know that I’m the problem by default as a human –”  
  
“You’re not,” Haruka rushes, cupping his hands over Makoto’s. _“You’re_ not.”  
  
Makoto smiles despite himself. “I wish there was something I could do.” His heart surges, voice raw with emotion. “I want to protect you.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes blink wide before he lunges up against Makoto’s mouth. Makoto catches him in that weightless moment before gravity crashes in, dragging him down into the water with Haruka, the ocean enveloping them as they kiss in the warm, salty tide. Haruka hauls him to the surface with one powerful kick of his tail and Makoto comes up with a laugh, raking his drenched hair back. Haruka smiles achingly, whispering, “There is a way you can help.”  
  
Makoto stills, listening reverently.  
  
Haruka says, “The migration comes with the next full moon and there will be more Derketo coming to Trident’s Point to start their lives as humans.” He glances to the side. “Your grandparents trusted a few other employees to help the process.”  
  
Makoto stares. “More humans know about you?”  
  
“A few. Your grandparents had them help get the Derketo on their feet, in a sense, and kept boat traffic away from the migration.” His face twists with grief. “Those few humans will have to do all the work themselves now.”  
  
Makoto’s heart clenches. He looks down into the water for a moment, his voice firming with resolve. “I’m willing to learn how to help. I want to.”  
  
Haruka’s body strains with hope, but he does not respond at first. He thinks for a moment, tail swishing absently, and breathes, “I think you should meet the rest of the Derketo at the Point before you make this decision.” He grimaces. “You’ve already met them, but you need to meet the _real_ them.” He shakes his head with emotion thick in his voice. “But I can already tell you that we’re not worth what you’ll be risking, Mako –”  
  
“Oh, Haruka…” Hanging onto a pillar with one arm, he reaches out and pulls him close, the water rippling sunrise-orange.  
  
Makoto kisses him and Haruka fists his shirt, letting out a fearful whisper against his lips. “Helping us is dangerous. You shouldn’t have to make this kind of decision, you – _mmm.”  
_  
Makoto kisses him deeper, hushing his worries as he rests their foreheads together. “It’s not a choice. My grandparents made it their life’s work to help you; what kind of person would I be if I didn’t do the same?” He stares at Haruka in wonder. “And it’s about _you._ I can’t just stand by and leave you alone through this.”  
  
Haruka tucks his face against Makoto’s neck for one overwhelmed moment, then lets out a sigh. He kisses his pulse point with resolve. “All right.”

* * *

Makoto goes to work that afternoon and Haruka takes the day to heal, though he promises to hide out in the ocean caves, where it is safest. Loneliness aches through Makoto, but the feeling gives way to confusion as he approaches the Point. Instead of white news vans, there are black SUVS parked around the building.  
  
Makoto ducks behind a fork lift as he narrows his eyes. There’s an array of intimidating equipment in the vans: sonars, cameras, satellites. He notices a group of sleek, black boats fill the marina, decked out in similar equipment.  
  
With a racing heart, Makoto hurries to his dad’s office and finds it empty. He frowns to himself as he steps out on the balcony, noticing his father on the docks and speaking with a woman Makoto does not recognize. Her brown hair and eyes are soft enough, but the surgical equipment in her hands unsettles him.  
  
He glances to the side and notices Rin behind the bar, watching the women with dread weighting his shoulders. Suspiciously, Makoto approaches him and Rin jerks to attention, flustering guiltily, but not because he was caught eavesdropping – it’s a deeper reason. A secret that Makoto now knows.  
  
He asks, “Are you one of them?”  
  
Rin blinks stupidly slow. “One of what?”  
  
Makoto gives him a flat look of exhaustion.  
  
Rin fumes a sigh. “Fuck.” His mouth firms into a line and he guides Makoto into the cool darkness of the gift shop. Nao looks up from the counter in surprise, but before he can say anything, Rin grunts, “Can me and Mako have a second, Nao? Please?”  
  
Nao’s eyes flicker between them for a moment, but he rises in apprehensive silence and slips out the door without a word of protest.  
  
Makoto frowns uneasily at Rin. “You didn’t have to do that.”  
  
Rin raises his brows mockingly high. “I’m sorry, did you want to stand outside in front of God and everyone else while discussing the existence of fantastical, fairy tale creatures? One of which you think I am?”  
  
Makoto wavers at the thought of finding out someone else in his life is a _creature._ Rin leans back against the shelves with tightly crossed arms, bowing his head in defeat. “I’m not a damn mermaid. I’m just the human that takes care of them.”  
  
Makoto flops down on the window seat with his elbows on his knees. Rin snorts in understanding. “The Derketo come with more drama than a van full of drag queens and when it’s _your_ job to keep that shit contained, you get a little stressed, so…” He trembles a sigh. “I’m sorry. Nagisa told me what happened last night. Please tell me you’re okay.”  
  
Makoto swallows, bobbing a weak nod. “Physically, yeah.”  
  
Rin’s gaze is intent. “What about Haruka?”  
  
He wipes his sweaty palms on his trunks. “He’s, uh, _a mermaid,_ but other than that…” He nods a little stronger. “The bullet just grazed him. He’s resting in the sea caves today.”  
  
Rin rakes his hair back and then scrubs a hand down his face. He looks exhausted and Makoto stares at him in disbelief. “How’d you get involved in all this?”  
  
Rin breathes a laugh. “It was an accident. This all started with your grandparents and it’s not like they could ask someone to help with the new wave of Derketo coming to Trident’s Point each summer.” He hesitates, then sighs. “Your dad doesn’t know about any of this. He never knew your grandmother was a mermaid and Takara wanted it that way to keep him safe.” He shifts his weight, crossing his arms pensively. “That being said, she _definitely_ wouldn’t have come to me for help.”  
  
Makoto tips his head. “Then… what happened?”  
  
“I –” Rin looks away, eyes vacant on the distant water. “I started working at the Point after my dad’s boat went missing. Two years had passed and I was like, sixteen, but every night I was still going out on my own looking for that boat.” The weight of his words presses down in the silence. “Storm rolled in, my kayak did a fuckin’ barrel roll, and I knew I was gonna die.” He closes his eyes and hangs his head before he cracks a disbelieving smile. “Then Nagisa showed up in full mermaid glory and saved my ass.”  
  
Makoto cranes back and Rin chuckles. “He was headed to the Point at the time – said he didn’t think it would be proactive to start his human life by letting me drown,” sarcasm drips from his tone, “so I caught him on a good day, I guess.” He levels himself in seriousness. “The Derketo are… they’re good _people,_ Makoto. They’re as much of a person as I am and that night with Nagisa made me realize that. I’ve been on their side ever since. I help them adjust to human life best I can and show them the ropes.”  
  
Makoto lets out a heavy breath. “That must be a lot of work.”  
  
Rin shrugs. “You’d think that, but they’re really smart. Humans use 10% of their brains, right? Well, dolphins use 20%, and that gives them echolocation and telepathy.” He leans forward with a crazed grin. “Derketo use 50%. They can memorize full _languages_ in a single day.”  
  
Makoto thunks back against the window as he shakes his head. “With my grandparents gone… do you have to cover everything by yourself now?”  
  
Rin chews his lip as he kicks some sand out of his flip-flops. “The Derketo know not to swim in populated areas in broad daylight, so they normally come to the Point at night and I can’t be here then. Someone else watches over things at night for me since I can’t sneak out.” Self-loathing cuts through his eyes. “Sousuke doesn’t know about any of this. Lying to him has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I _hate_ myself for it, but this isn’t about me feeling guilty. An entire species is riding on my ability to keep their secret.”  
  
Makoto takes a steadying breath. “I want to help.”  
  
Rin looks sorrowful at that. He pulls a chair in front of Makoto and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “Haruka probably said he didn’t want you to be a part of this, right?” At Makoto’s nod, Rin gives a considering shrug. “It’s a big thing to take on. It’s not as easy as just keeping a world-changing secret.”  
  
At Makoto’s blink, Rin points toward the window and the line of black boats in the water. “Those are marine biologists that work for an agency called Black Sand. My mom said they’re known in the field for working in the name of multiple governments – they follow oddities in marine life patterns country to country and Mom said that no other company in the biology community works with them because of rumors about what they do to animals.” Rage heats his face. “I’m talking live dissection. Conscious experimentation. _Torture._ But they don’t get shut down because all those governments are after what they’re chasing.”  _  
  
_ Makoto swallows. “What is it that they’re after?”  
  
Rin glares out at the marina. “They were here in Iwatobi a few weeks ago, wanting to use the Point as their base camp for an ‘evaluation of local marine life’ but your grandparents called bullshit because they’re really here for all the mermaid sightings at Trident’s Point.”  
  
Makoto’s stomach churns, his veins swelling with such panic that they threaten to burst from his limbs.  
  
“Your dad doesn’t know about the Derketo,” Rin reminds him. “So he doesn’t understand and now he’s letting those people use the Point as their base because they offered him a fat wad of money and he thinks it’s that simple.” He points harder out the window with emphasis, desperation climbing in his voice. _“That_ is what you are up against if you decide to help. You will have to lie to your dad’s face because _lives_ depend on it and that shit is hard, Makoto.” His face crumbles with grief. “None of us want that kind of life for you, Mako. You can still go home and forget about all of this –”  
  
“I can’t,” Makoto says with firm resolve. “I can’t forget about Haruka.”  
  
“Do you love him?”  
  
He does not waver. “Yes.”  
  
Rin’s voice falls to a solemn whisper. “Would you die for him?”  
  
The weight of disbelieving silence is like a cinder block. A sharp blade of sunlight cuts down Rin’s face. “You think that agency outside will let you stand in their way of finding him? You think that crazy ass redneck wouldn’t have shot you in the face last night if Haruka hadn’t been there?”   
  
Makoto bows his head, fearful tears burning his eyes, mind scrambling to find courage. He doesn’t find bravery, but he finds _memories,_ and that is all he needs. His hands tighten into determined fists. “My grandparents thought the Derketo were worth it and I know Haruka’s worth it.” He lifts his chin. “That’s really all that matters.”  
  
Rin lets out a sharp jet of air through his nose. “I can’t change your mind?”  
  
“No. Sorry.”  
  
He sighs and nods, accepting defeat. “All right, kamikaze, listen up.” He grabs a thick encyclopedia off the bookshelf and thumbs the combination lock on the front cover. It clicks open and Rin turns through the first hundred pages as dust billows through the air. He finds what he was looking for and flops the heavy book into Makoto’s lap, making him grunt.  
  
He studies the drawing, recognizing his grandmother’s art style – across the withered, yellow pages are sketches that look like mermaids, except they have _shark tails_. Their upper bodies are weakly muscled and they carry themselves timidly. “Those are a species of Derketo called Zagreus,” Rin explains. His jaw tightens. “One of them attacked Sousuke.”  
  
Makoto looks at the written description intently. _Zagreus are feared by other Derketo because they are cursed by Hera._ He frowns nervously. “Should I know who Hera is?”  
  
Rin snorts. “Nah, don’t worry about all the specifics of the stories. In summary, the Greek gods were a hot fuckin’ mess of adultery, incest, and getting down with a few animals every now and then.”  
  
Makoto stares at him with a vague look of nausea. Rin smirks. “Like I said, it ain’t that important – not like you want those kinds of details, anyway.” He flips to another page, which looks like an illustrated index of gods. He points to a woman whose stern face is draped in silk. “Long story short, Hera’s the wife of Zeus –”  
  
“He was like, the king of the gods, right?”  
  
“Basically,” Rin hikes a grin. “And he wasn’t the most faithful of husbands. He took the form of a snake to trick this chick called Persephone into sleeping with him and –”  
  
“Why would he need to be a snake to do that?”  
  
Rin blinks. “Because she had a thing for Hades. You know, God of Death and all that jazz? So yeah, Zeus and Persephone get down and have a kid named Zagreus. Hera gets _pissed_ about Zeus cheating on her and she has the kid killed – that’s why the Derketo think he was cursed.” He arches a brow. “But in the earliest version of this story, Zags was the son of _Hades_ and Persephone, so the species of Derketo called Zagreus are actually the decedents of Hades and Persephone – not her and Zeus.” He goes back to the previous page and traces the drawing with a finger, swooping around a jagged fin. “They’re born with some crazy dark magic, like, they can possess sharks and make them do their dirty work, like hunting. They’re not too confrontational – actually, they’re nervous as hell. Timid like their momma. They don’t go around picking fights but if you make one mad enough, they go berserk.”  
  
Makoto’s insides run cold. “Do they travel in groups?”  
  
“All Derketo call their family group _génos_ , and no – Zagreus are loners.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I don’t know why this one traveled to Iwatobi before the migration, but that doesn’t even really matter. We’re worried about him attacking someone else and if this rogue mermaid gets caught, then we’re all screwed, so the goal is to find the Zagreus before he’s seen again.”  
  
Makoto slowly gathers up all this information. “Is there anything I can do?”  
  
Rin leans back and strokes his chin pensively. “Come to the Point tonight and we’ll go from there.” He rises and claps Makoto on the shoulder. “And feel free to go ahead and clock out if you want to go to Haruka. He’ll heal quicker if you’re around him.”  
  
Makoto blinks in bewilderment and Rin smirks. “The Derketo are very… _affected_ by what’s around them. The Nereids get sick with the ocean pollution; Sirens _literally_ die of a broken heart. So naturally, a Derketo’s happiness affects them on a seriously physical level.”  
  
Makoto falters. “You mean… you’re saying love can actually heal them?”  
  
Rin inclines his head, hair sweeping with the motion. “Most of them spend their entire lives alone, wandering aimlessly in a dark ocean. It shouldn’t be that hard to believe.”  
  
Needless to say, Makoto does not waste time in clocking out after that.

* * *

He spends the rest of the day with Haruka in the sea caves, isolated from the rest of the world and the impending problems that will surely come when they return to it. They bask in the peaceful ambiance of rippling water and warm streaks of sunlight through the open ceiling of the main cave. Haruka is weak and tired, but his wound has substantially healed after a few hours – the only thing left of the injury is internal soreness.  
  
They kiss lazily throughout the day, sometimes over the surface of the water, other times up on the rocks between smiling murmurs. Haruka tells Makoto that he is free to ask questions about the Derketo species, and he even lets him run a hesitant hand over his tail. Makoto struggles to hide that he is mystified by his scales, which dazzle like shattered topaz in the sunlight. They are also as hard as jewels, unyielding to Makoto’s touch and almost threatening to cut his fingers on the jagged edges of them. Haruka explains that his scales are obviously a layer of protection and that his forearm fins are also a method of defense.  
  
Speaking of defense, Haruka says that all Derketo have the ability to turn into vessels of lightning and electrocute people like he did last night. This power was a gift from Zeus to protect the Derketo from man.  
  
This leads to Makoto pondering if the Derketo ever fight each other (they usually don’t unless it’s over a mate or food source), which then leads to him wondering about other ways the species interact with each other. Haruka lies back in the water with his arms cushioning his head as he blinks up at the open sky with Makoto. “Since we’re underwater most of the time, we usually resort to vocal signals instead of actually speaking. It’s echolocation – how whales and dolphins communicate.” He perks a small smile. “It’s good for hunting too – the vibrations of the call bounce off of fish.”  
  
Makoto laughs, but the sound falls away as memories haunt his mind. “You made strange noises when you were shot. Almost like whistling.”  
  
Haruka’s expression softens, his tail scraping against Makoto’s swim trunks. “We whistle during lots of situations,” he murmurs, spreading his fingers to let Makoto study the webbing between them. “When we’re happy. Scared.” His cheek scales flush a shade redder. “Trying to get someone’s attention.”  
  
Makoto notices how he tenses, especially when Haruka tries to brush it off by clearing his throat and adding, “If we want to communicate through speech, we usually talk in Greek.”  
  
“Oh,” Makoto breathes absently, mind elsewhere. The insistent questions practically itch across his skin, but he’s sporting his own embarrassing blush. Even so, he can’t help but wonder, “What would _this …”_ He squeezes their fingers together for emphasis, like _that_ will offer any clarity. “What would we be like if I were, um.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes dart over his face to find a translation in his body language. “You mean our mating rituals? They’re not very different from yours, Makoto, we’re mammals and have children by –”  
  
_“I didn’t mean –!”_ Makoto sits up and slaps his hands over his face with a groan. Okay, maybe he _is_ a bit curious about how Derketo are made (born?) but that wasn’t what he was asking Haruka. Makoto gets over his nervousness and manages, “I mean how do you choose who you like?” He winces at himself and rephrases his words. “I mean what’s attractive to you? Your kind,” he rushes, nearly screaming, “I mean what’s attractive to your kind!”  
  
Haruka slowly sits up and Makoto tries not to watch his naked abdomen flex with the motion. They’re so close like this – facing each other, heads ducked close in the soft darkness of the cave. Sunshine bounces off the water and throws blue prisms across Haruka’s face. “Strength is attractive,” he murmurs. “Physical or magical. What you lack in muscle can be made up by how many spells you know. All species also have a universal appreciation for singing.”  
  
Well, that’s more than a little devastating. “Oh.” He tries to repress his self-consciousness but it bleeds into his voice as he looks down with a sad smile. “I can’t sing.”  
  
“You wouldn’t have to.”  
  
Makoto looks up but Haruka glances away. “But you said –”  
  
“Your suitor sings for _you,”_ he says, head dipping for his bangs to cover his expression. “After I give you things. I’d hunt food for you and then I’d give you… um, prettier things.”  
  
Food like _oysters;_ pretty things like _pearls._  
  
Makoto’s lungs evaporate. So does the cave in its entirety and everything outside of his screaming realization.  
  
Haruka dares to glance up at him. “But I wouldn’t have kissed you on the mouth at first.” He gathers up the courage to reach for Makoto’s trembling hands and guides them to his mouth, brushing his lips across his knuckles, lighter than the kiss of calm, morning waves against the shore. His lips trace the shape of Makoto’s fingers and it’s the most intimate moment of his life, the world narrowing down to the sound of kisses and the echoing ocean. Haruka leans back, the blueness of his eyes flaring against the shadows, and Makoto knows what is expected of him.  
  
He blindly gropes for Haruka’s fingers so their gazes won’t break, then bows to kiss the back of his hand. Haruka gasps in a way that makes Makoto realize he will never be able to understand the gravity of what he just did. Against the warmth of his skin, Makoto whispers, “Then where would you kiss me?”  
  
Haruka dips forward, his nose skimming the line of Makoto’s jaw to tip it back. Makoto goes boneless under open-mouthed kisses over his neck, an odd sort of adrenaline singing through his blood. Haruka breathes heat against damp sweeps of saliva, fingers kneading Makoto’s scalp as teeth graze his pulse point. “You’d have gills here,” Haruka murmurs into his skin. “So you’d be extra sensitive here.”  
  
Makoto is _already_ extra sensitive there – he’s positive that being kissed by Haruka is the most sensation a body can contain. Makoto brushes their cheeks together before inhaling against Haruka’s throat, finding a dark, warm place to press his lips. He is careful in skimming his mouth over Haruka’s gills and they flutter against his kiss. Makoto is surprised when Haruka wrenches back, his cheek scales flaring bright gold, features tight with restrained laughter. “That tickles,” Haruka wheezes behind his hand.   
  
_“Oh.”_  
  
He shrieks laughter when Makoto smothers his throat with kisses, tickling up his sides, grunting a chuckle when Haruka slaps his back with his tail-fin. Eventually, Makoto ends the sweet torture, smiling down at Haruka as his bangs flutter with his heaving. Makoto cards through his damp hair and asks, “What would happen now?”  
  
Haruka leans up on his elbows to surge against his mouth. “We’d be together,” he whispers over his lips longingly. “And it wouldn’t be dangerous.” Their foreheads rest against one another and Haruka stares up at him with his face sunken in grief. “And I’d tell you _s’agapo_ as much as I could.”  
  
Makoto hears the depth of that foreign word even if he does not know its translation. With an aching heart, he cups Haruka’s cheek for their gazes to meet. “We don’t have to be anything else. I don’t _want_ to be anyone other than who I am with you. You make me –” Tightens swells in his throat. “I don’t have to wear masks around you, Haruka. I don’t think I could if I tried.” His voice is a tumbling rush he cannot stop. “With you I’m not – I’m not that person who would let someone walk all over me if that would just prevent a confrontation and I’m not the person who never told Mom that she makes me feel caged and too free at the same time, like she’s so over-protective and not at all, at the exact same time.”  
  
Haruka strokes his temple and Makoto bows into the touch, no longer able to carry the weight of himself. “What I’m saying is that I never thought any of my feelings were valid until this – this _surge_ in my chest demanded to be felt. It’s all for you.” He shakes his head hopelessly. “It’s meaningless without you.” Makoto lurches to kiss him in an earnest press of lips. “It doesn’t matter what either of us are or what any of my friends at the Point are.” He beams at Haruka in his own broken way. “This is still the best summer of my life and I’m still in love with you.”  
  
Haruka looks young and vulnerable, like he’s waited for a moment as simple as this his entire life. Makoto holds him fiercely as Haruka whispers that lovely, foreign word into his chest, against his lips, until Makoto is not capable of remembering his own language or any other word in existence.

* * *

They go back to Trident’s Point around 1 a.m. Makoto is tired, yet too invigorated to even think about sleeping. His stomach is a mess of nerves – anticipation and an overall sense of not knowing what will happen next. It’s a very vulnerable feeling, and downright terrifying to a nauseating degree, but he puts one foot in front of the other on the walk to the Point and does not look back.  
  
If he holds Haruka’s hand a little too tightly, he never once calls him out on it. Haruka might even be holding his hand just as fiercely.  
  
The empty parking lot is a blessed sight, as are the vacant balconies, the tablecloths billowing hauntingly as the tide rolls in. Rin texted Makoto earlier today to explain that Black Sand won’t start their official surveillance of Trident’s Point until the end of the week – their boats are in storage, along with all of their intimidating monitoring equipment. The Point is as quiet as the calm sea.  
  
At least until Makoto and Haruka step onto the dock. One minute, Makoto is looking around expectantly, the next, footsteps clamor off the nearest houseboat and an aluminum bat flashes in the dock lights. Makoto ducks on instinct but Haruka whips a hand through the air in a dragging motion – a jet of water slices into ice and solidifies around the ball bat.  
  
Natsuya scoffs in disbelief as the bat thunks to the dock. “The hell, Nanase?”  
  
Makoto’s eyes blink wide. Natsuya doesn’t look surprised that Haruka just very literally _water-bended_. He merely seems annoyed. Haruka rolls his eyes and squeezes his hand into a fist, causing the ice to drip away at a terrifyingly fast rate. Natsuya grins at his steaming bat proudly while Haruka says, “Rin told you we’d be coming. You should know who you’re swinging at before you actually swing.”  
  
Natsuya leans his weight on the bat with flat eyes. “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”  
  
“You’re so rude without your beauty rest, Natsuya.”  
  
They turn toward the familiar voice, but Nao is not on the dock. Water ripples behind the boat and Makoto’s gasp echoes through his head as he wavers. Nao glides into sight, his crinkled eyes glowing against the night, too ethereal to have a logical explanation.  
  
Makoto is struck with an awe that makes time itself slow down. Nao’s smile holds the same understanding tilt, even though his legs are wrapped in an expanse of scales. The length of his body falls from pale skin to violets and blues like spilled watercolors over canvas, his fin speckled white like sea foam that never faded away. Down his chest is a cord of braided kelp, embellished with a small piece of fishing net at the shoulder.  
  
Makoto’s eyes go to Natsuya, but again, he does not look surprised. His smirk is fond as he shakes his head, then he turns to Makoto while holding the bat a fraction tighter with stormy protection in his eyes.  
  
Makoto dares a step closer, managing to not fall on his ass when he crouches at the edge of the dock. Nao swims up, his tail glowing in the darkness of the sea, and smiles in apology. “Hi, Makoto.”  
  
“Hi,” he breathes, struggling not to choke on his own voice. His throat is so dry and there is no air in his lungs. “You’re a…”  
  
Nao’s smile deepens into a smirk as he nods patiently. “Yes.”  
  
“Not a Nereid,” Haruka explains as he swims over, which makes Makoto crane back. He did not even hear Haruka dive into the water over the ringing in his ears. He watches their tails brush under the water in what seems like a fond way of greeting. “A Siren.”  
  
Makoto definitely can’t stop himself from looking at Natsuya now, which makes the older boy chuckle. He flops down beside Makoto and grins. “He didn’t try to drown me, if that’s what you’re thinking. That’s a very ancient stereotype for them.” He lifts his brows high. “But he _can_ sing, like, _wow.”_  
  
Nao ducks his coy smile under the water, his cheek scales twinkling pink as he sweeps his arms through the waves. Makoto notices that Nao does not have defensive forearm fins like Haruka, nor do his scales look as thickly layered for protection. He is positive that Nao makes up for it with the magic Haruka mentioned earlier.  
  
Natsuya puts a hand over his heart with dramatics. “We had quite the storybook beginning, actually. Haruka, have you heard this story before?”  
  
“Only every two days,” he snorts under his breath, pouting when Nao splashes him with his fin.  
  
Natsuya gazes up at the stars and sighs fondly at the memory. “Nao got caught in one of my fishing nets. I found him, freed him, but then instead of making a mad escape, he went on to tell me how pathetic my nets were and what I should do to improve them.”  
  
Makoto startles a laugh and Nao shakes his head pityingly. “You should have seen this net, Makoto. I’ve seen prettier things come out of the River Styx from the Underworld.”  
  
Natsuya’s toes flick water at him. “It caught _you.”_ He pokes the piece of fishing net tied to Nao’s chest piece, which has more meaning now.   
  
“Yes, and then I threatened to drown you and you started _hitting on me._ ” Nao tries to fight a smile. “I instantly knew you were crazy.”  
  
Natsuya curves the most handsome grin and leans down to card Nao’s hair back. “Unforgettable though, right?”  
  
Nao leans into the touch, his tail surging brighter at the contact, and Makoto swears that Natsuya’s eyes flare brighter at the same time. He almost faints when Haruka nods, confirming his suspicion.  
  
“Natsuya and I are bonded,” Nao says, pulling Makoto from his thoughts almost like he could read them. “It’s the most sacred vow a Derketo can make. Anything less than absolute devotion will make the ritual impossible.”  
  
Makoto treads carefully. “How does it work?”  
  
“To solidify the bond, mates pledge themselves eternally to one another through the melding of souls.” Nao’s voice is rooted in severity. “It is an unbreakable vow. Exactly half of your soul is given to your lover and in return, you are given half of theirs.”  
  
Makoto regards Natsuya as he mumbles, “There is no turning back; no form of divorce. Death is the only thing that can break a bond, and the only comfort those left behind have is that they will follow quickly.”  
  
Makoto studies Haruka’s expression, which looks as overwhelmed as he feels. “That’s... it sounds beautiful, but intense.”  
  
“Not many Derketo take the vow due to its extreme nature,” Haruka says.  
  
Nao nods gravely. “If a Derketo bonds with a human, the human risks death by the intensity of the ritual.”  
  
At Makoto’s confusion, Natsuya flatly interjects, “You come so hard that it almost kills you.” He shudders in delight. “But damn, I _still_ feel it in my bones.”  
  
Nao pinches the bridge of his nose with a fuming sigh. “Let it be known that I tried to talk him out of it, but…” He drifts closer to Natsuya, his gaze pleading with Makoto. “These are troubled times for Derketo. There is no certainty in anything around us anymore. We live every day preparing for it to be our last because it’s only a matter of time before we are discovered.” He shakes his head hopelessly. “I wish this was not something to be feared, and I told myself for the longest time that I wasn’t scared, but then I met Natsuya and knew that we were doomed for so many reasons.” He deflates. “We just needed something that no one could take away from us.”    
  
Makoto’s heart aches. “Does Ikuya know about any of this?”  
  
Natsuya’s smile is pained. “No, I’m in the same situation as Rin. I don’t feel like it’s my place to risk an entire species just to relieve my own guilt.” He raises his chin, not with pride, but with acceptance of his fate. “I have every faith in your ability to help keep the Derketo secret for another summer, but you have to believe in yourself, Makoto, because _they_ believe in you, too.”   
  
Puzzled, he follows Natsuya’s gaze out to the distant water. At first, he thinks the flickers of color are just reflections of light from downtown, which is some miles down the beach. But then he makes out figures – arms, torsos, billowing hair. A fin slices through the water, leaving a trail of light in its wake. A few yards away, a webbed hand pushes through the waves toward Makoto.  
  
At long last, a face breaks the surface, drenched curls shaping to a familiar face. Nagisa beams, very literally fit to burst into light as he flaps his tail, burning pink and veined with pulsing gold. His armbands are carved from bronze and bangles circle the narrowest part of his tail before it flares out into a fin.  
  
Makoto can only stare as another figure lazes to the surface and Kisumi rakes his hair back, exposing his neck collar made of silver and lustrous stones. His tail ends with four fins spread like an opening flower, and every individual scale is a dazzling shade of purple that humankind has not named in any language.  
  
Another head parts the surface and shy brown eyes regard Makoto. It takes him a moment to recognize them, but realization strikes him when ginger hair pools over the surface, and Aki’s freckles shine in pinpoints of golden stars in her Derketo form. Her tail blazes red, but she has no fins like the others – instead, her tail curls at the end like a seahorse’s.  
  
Another figure emerges beside Aki, and where Nii’s skin was once moonlight-pale, it’s now tinted the softest shade of green. The tips of her ears are elongated and curved, her tail simply narrowed at the end and textured like the skin of an alligator, rather than the scales of a fish. Vines bind her chest and her mess of black hair is at least five feet longer than what Makoto remembers; with all these details along with her strange green skin and bark-colored tail, she appears as something that belongs in a swamp, rather than the ocean.  
  
And then there is Haruka, staring up at Makoto with his features strained in remorse, apology, but more than anything, there is a screaming sense of fear. _Please, accept us. Accept me.  
  
_ The silence is heavy with anticipation, the humidity of the night drenched with thick tension. Makoto’s brain is failing, struggling to find a probable explanation for what he is seeing. He knows there isn’t one, but the part of himself that demands logic is _dying,_ and he is falling into a parallel universe, another realm that only a handful of people know to be true. Nobody will ever believe him if he tries to tell them about what is right before his eyes – he is now apart from everyone else in the world. An outcast.  
  
But he can’t truly convince himself to feel that way when these beings _– his friends –_ are staring up at him from the water, all of whom are outcasts themselves in a way. They have nowhere safe to go in the entire ocean; Nao said it himself and so did Haruka, that the Derketo are doomed to be found sooner or later, and now they are looking to Makoto to help keep them a secret, to keep them safe, _alive.  
  
_ He takes a deep breath. Another one. Just one more.  
  
Makoto eyes Haruka warily. “That’s everyone?”  
  
He withers and nods, bowing his head to accept defeat.  
  
Makoto meet the nervousness in everyone’s gazes. “Thank you for trusting me,” he says. “I’m… not sure what I’ll be able to contribute to any of this, but this was my grandparents’ fight and I’m dedicating myself to finishing it, because it’s not just what they would want –” He smiles down at Haruka’s wide eyes. “It’s what I want, too.”  
  
The collective breath of relief is immense, and Nagisa’s laugh of delight shatters the tension. He swims up and Makoto bends to let him hug his neck and pats his damp curls. “Thank you, Mako-chan,” Nagisa whispers, and with his being so close, Makoto can hear an odd, harmonized vibration underlining his voice. It must have something to do with the Siren form and their mystical singing capabilities.  
  
Makoto smiles and leans back as the others swim closer with a newfound ease. Natsuya sits down beside Makoto and unfolds a map of Iwatobi’s coast, yanking a marker top off with his teeth. “Rin told you about the Zagreus?”  
  
Makoto nods, blinking when Kisumi hisses, “That _kuna.”_ He rubs the jagged cuts across his chest and Makoto remembers Asahi saying that Kisumi was scratched when Sousuke was attacked.  
  
“These are all the places we’ve looked for him,” Natsuya says, pointing to the map and pulling Makoto from his thoughts. He circles an impressive amount of areas, such as the bay, a number of deltas, and even the river behind  Dad’s house. “Okay, so, Derketo are essentially good hunters, meaning they’re good trackers, but things work a little differently when magic is involved.”  
  
“A Zagreus can use spells to cover their scent,” Aki explains, speaking carefully for Makoto’s benefit. “All of us can, to an extent.”  
  
He perks up. “Those spells are called veils, right?”  
  
She beams and nods proudly.  
  
“But spells are also a way to track the Zagreus,” Nii adds, her voice a raspy croak like the voice of a witch in a haunted marsh. “Magic lingers and it will follow him in a trail, but it dissipates quickly.” A firefly tries to land on her nose and she swats it in frustration. “Catching up with him is what we’re having trouble with.”  
  
Natsuya nods. “So what me and you’ll do, Mako, is go out on the boat and try to either lure him with bait or drive ahead of his trail if anyone catches the end of it. Make sense?”  
  
Makoto nods, then pauses. “You’re sure he’s still in Iwatobi? By his ah, magic trails?”  
  
“Yes,” Haruka says. “He’s had us in circles for weeks. We sensed his presence before he attacked Sousuke, but he’s still somewhere in the area. We feel it.”  
  
“Why do you think he isn’t leaving?”  
  
Kisumi snorts, his gills flaring with agitation. “It can only be for food. There’s no other reason he should have come to Iwatobi before the migration.”  
  
Makoto hesitates. “Have you thought about just asking him why?”  
  
The Derketo glance at one another – Aki and Nagisa look considering, but others, such as Haruka and Nao, harden their jaws in protection of their humans. “I want to keep as many people alive as possible,” Haruka promises. “Including the Zagreus but he can’t be trusted alone. We have to drive him out or he will suffer the consequences of being in marked territory.”  
  
The other Derketo take his word as final without protest, and Makoto sighs in acceptance.

* * *

Natsuya steers his old motorboat out to a narrow channel lined with pastel condos. He and Makoto are the only ones out on the water, given that no boats are supposed to be out this late at night, and this brings Makoto to ask, “What will you do if the coast guard shows up?”  
  
Natsuya rotates the rusty-silver steering wheel. “Oh, the Sirens have a veil over us right now. It’s weak, since they’re concentrating most of their magic on finding the Zagreus, but if the veil falls then Aki’ll just call the fog in.” He blinks over at Makoto and winces when he notices that he’s drained pale. “Oh. You didn’t know about that, did you?”  
  
The boat lurches when Aki props up on the side, folding her arms as she smiles at Makoto. “Don’t worry, I’m the only one out of the group who can control sea weather to such a degree. My kind is called Briareos.”  
  
“Briar-e-os,” Makoto echoes slowly, forcing his brain to wrap around the concept.  
  
Aki nods, perking a smile. “We’re named after my father – he’s one of the three primordial hundred-handed, fifty-headed sea storm giants.”  
  
Makoto blinks once, twice. “Oh.” Natsuya snorts a laugh at his expense.  
  
Aki giggles, then withers self-consciously. “I’m supposed to be able to summon storms, but I’m not passionate enough for it.”  
  
“That’s not true,” Nii says as she props up beside her, making Makoto and Natsuya grab each other as the boat lurches dangerously to the side. Nii wraps her tail around Aki’s with an earnest squeeze. “You’re more than passionate enough to do anything you want.”  
  
Aki pecks her sweetly on the mouth before Nagisa calls Nii over to a dock. Makoto frowns as he notices her swat at another group of fireflies around her head. “Why are those bugs hanging around her?”  
  
Natsuya chokes on his Coke and Aki gasps behind her hand. Makoto’s blood freezes at her severity. “Mako-chan, those aren’t bugs,” she whispers. “They’re faeries.”  
  
He sinks down  – there isn’t a chair beneath him, but Natsuya shoves an upside down bucket underneath him before he can collapse. Aki pats his hand in fretful apology. “Sorry, _Koukla._ The fae don’t often leave Iwatobi’s wetlands, if that makes you feel any better. Nii’s kind is born in forest pools and waterfalls, not the ocean. That’s why she looks so different than the rest of us and that’s also why she’s so close to the fae, because she shares their forest.”  
  
Makoto wavers, but he manages a nod. “Is that her power? Talking to faeries?”  
  
“The Melusina – er, Nii’s species – are born to protect waterways from pollution, so she can dispel garbage, oil, things like that.” She arches a brow over a grin. “She can _also_ talk to animals and take their forms, preferably aquatic creatures.”  
  
_Like alligators._ The strangeness of her tail makes more sense now. “How did you meet her, if she was born in the forest?”  
  
Aki watches Nii dive into the waves with Nagisa and smiles softly, voice distant and fond. “It was actually at your father’s house. When I first came to Iwatobi, your grandmother let me stay under your private dock instead of Trident’s Point.” She blushes, tucking her mouth behind her folded arms. “I was very shy. It was just Nagisa, Kisumi, and Nao there at the time and being around three _beautiful_ Sirens intimidated me. So I was sleeping under the dock when a hurricane rolled in.” Her hands clench into angry fists. “I knew it was going to cause so much damage and I tried to stop it, but I was too weak. The storm was so powerful that it blew me into the river behind your house.”  
  
She hugs herself in a way to comfort herself from the memory. “I was hurt badly. But the Melusina are our best healers because they have an understanding of countless potions and concoctions from the fae. Then the Sirens went looking for me and that shocked me; I was so touched. So, it all worked out for the best.” She tries to rub away her smile, but it’s hopeless. “Nii came to the ocean for me. I never thought I was worth such a sacrifice, but she makes me believe that I am, you know?”  
  
Makoto turns just as Haruka surfaces, tipping his head to the stars and taking a deep breath as his gills flare. Makoto smiles to himself. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
Haruka swims up to put new coordinates in Natsuya’s GPS, and Kisumi lolls to the surface, smirking at Makoto in greeting. Aki swims away as he comes closer with a strong push of his tail and purrs, “Evening, Mako-chan.”  
  
“Hi,” he laughs, noticing the harmonious undertone to Kisumi’s voice, much like Nagisa’s. He eyes the claw marks over Kisumi’s chest. “Thank you for what you did,” he says with a grave bow of his head. “I’m so sorry you got hurt.”  
  
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Kisumi tips him a grin. “It’s not as bad as it looks. We Sirens travel in threes, like the Fates, so one of us is the best with magic, another with hunting, and another being the physical strength, which is me, so I’ve got my share of scars.” He flips his hair proudly. “I’m _also_ the best singer, Nagisa and Nao just won’t admit it.”  
  
“Bullshit,” Natsuya calls without looking up from his GPS. “Nao’s the best.”  
  
Kisumi blows his tongue at him and Makoto laughs. He sobers up as he mumbles, “Asahi doesn’t know?”  
  
Kisumi falters, his expression crestfallen. He looks away to sigh. “No, and Rei doesn’t know about Nagisa.” His mouth twists bitterly. “I wasn’t supposed to be capable of what I feel for Asahi. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”  
  
“He’s worried about you.”  
  
Kisumi’s tail flares brighter with emotion. “He can’t find out, Makoto. Asahi deserves his peace – he’s constantly battling anxiety, I can’t put this kind of pressure on him.” His smile is grave as his voice lowers. “You can’t imagine how lucky Haruka is to have you. Your devotion is the highest honor our kind knows.”  
  
Makoto blushes under the severity of his words. Changing to a lighter subject, he asks, “So, real Sirens are actually known for their singing?”  
  
Kisumi perks up. “Yep! That’s because we were first half-bird instead of half-fish. We lost our feathers in a singing competition with Persephone, so we _dramatically_ flung ourselves into the ocean and became half-fish instead.” His eyes twinkle. “But we can still talk birds. Nagisa is from the arctic and he loved being with the penguins. Nao came from the coast of Africa and the parrots taught him the loveliest songs.” He shudders. “And he also talks about how good piranha meat is.”  
  
“Ew,” Makoto chuckles, receiving a solemn nod in response. “Where are you from?”  
  
“The Pacific Islands,” Kisumi beams. “One of them belongs to my mother.”  
  
Makoto isn’t even surprised at this point, and it shows in his flat expression, making Kisumi laugh. “I actually have two mothers. Calypso is one of them. Aphrodite journeyed to her island and –”  
  
Makoto falters. “You mean… the Goddess of Love?” At Kisumi’s grinning nod, his jaw falls open. _“She’s your mother?”_  
  
“One of them~ She and Calypso went swimming together and I was brought to life by the song of migrating whales. _Seriously.”  
  
_ “You weren’t, uh, born?”  
  
Kisumi shakes his head. “No, most children of gods aren’t.” He sweeps a hand out. “Technically, all of the Derketo are the descendants of gods, but the actual _children_ of gods are the strongest Derketo both physically and magically. We’re _very_ respected.” Pointedly, he inclines his head at Haruka, who is still busy helping Natsuya on the other side of the boat. Makoto follows his gaze in confusion as Kisumi’s voice lowers to a conspiring whisper. “A son of Poseidon and Amphitrite would be considered the Prince of the Sea because he is royalty.”  
  
Makoto doesn’t comprehend for a moment, and when it clicks, his brain short-circuits. “Poseidon. You mean –”  
  
“The God of the Sea and Amphitrite, his queen. Yeah. _That guy.”_  
  
Makoto stares at Haruka’s back in awe, eyes tracing the regal planes of his profile. Kisumi chews his lip around a smirk and flicks his wrist – rainbow glitter bursts from his palm and races across the surface of the water to pool around Haruka, then it washes away and the glow of his skin fades with it. Blue tattoos carve through Haruka’s back in entrancing swirls, meeting together at his spine and tracing the arch of his back. His eyes shine with unearthly light, his body illuminated in a stronger glow than before. A golden collar hangs over his chest, gleaming with sapphires. Haruka cranes back at the gauntlets that appear around his forearms and his glare is murderous as he turns to Kisumi.  
  
The Siren hugs his arms around Haruka’s back, whining, “Oh, Haru-chan, don’t be mad! Your veil is just too easy to slip off, I couldn’t resist~”  
  
Haruka shrugs him off and Kisumi lunges into the sea to escape his wrath. Haruka sighs, long and loud, blushing when Makoto chuckles and scoots over.  
  
Natsuya glances over their heads, frowning when Nagisa and Nii gesture wildly for him behind Makoto and Haruka’s backs. Nagisa makes a diving motion with his hands as Nii waves insistently, nodding to give Makoto and Haruka some privacy, which makes Natsuya perk up in realization. He frowns as he glances over the side of the boat, considering for a moment too long before Nao lunges out of the water and ignores Natsuya’s squawk of indignation as he yanks him overboard.  
  
Makoto and Haruka whip around when Natsuya hits the water like an explosion, blinking while he splutters and rakes his drenched curls back. “D-Don’t mind me! Just taking a quick dip. Casually. With no ulterior motives –” He gargles when Nao wrenches him under the water and they submerge some hundred yards away. Natsuya’s caw echoes down the channel along with Nao’s slap to the back of his head.  
  
Haruka looks to the heavens for strength and Makoto grins. “I’m sorry,” Haruka confesses, rubbing his arm self-consciously. “That I didn’t tell you about…” He flaps his fin and the topaz rings around the narrowest part his tail dangle with the motion, indicating his status.  
  
Makoto nudges him, raising his brows. “I’ll have you know that royalty is a _very_ attractive feature amongst humans.”  
  
Haruka snorts. “It is for the Derketo, too.”  
  
Makoto tips him a frown. “Then why would you hide it?”  
  
His eyes trace the blue markings across his palms, signs of being important, apart, _different._ “I don’t like it,” Haruka confesses, hands clenching into fists so he won’t have to see the marks. “I don’t like being judged so quickly. Even if the power is attractive, I never wanted it to be a tool to find a mate.” He crosses his arms stubbornly, but his shoulders hunch, and he looks uncomfortably exposed. _“Everyone_ is attracted to power and that shallowness bored me. It’s not real.” He scowls at a gauntlet. “I didn’t want to be bound by this. I wanted to be free.”  
  
Makoto stares, at a loss for words.  
  
Across the channel, Nagisa whistles high in distress, watching the scene from behind a dock pillar. “This isn’t working!”  
  
Aki peers around some tall grass in the shallows, narrowing her eyes to see further. “Neither of them are saying anything.” She flinches when Nii swats another faery away with a rough curse.  
  
Meanwhile, Natsuya is still coughing up a lung from behind a tied kayak with Nao. He pats Natsuya’s back while his brain scrambles for ideas and he whispers over to Nagisa, “You’d think we’d be better at romance, being Sirens.”  
  
Everyone slowly turns to Kisumi as his head submerges. His eyes are wide over the surface, nervous under the scrutinizing stares. Nagisa hauls him up to level their gazes. “Your mom is the freakin’ _Goddess of Love.”_ He points across the channel with urgency. “Fix this!”  
  
Natsuya’s brows crunch with intense thought before he gasps. “Doves! Those are romantic!”  
  
Nao cranes back with his face twisted in confusion. “Where are we going to find –”  
  
Nii whistles and a flock of seagulls take to the sky, crooning against the ambiance of the waves. The group stares up at them dreamily, then horror dawns on their faces as the birds use the boat as their own personal bathroom and Haruka yanks Makoto into the sea before they can both be hit by droppings.  
  
Everyone turns their glares to Natsuya, then Nii, who shrugs. “I was improvising.”  
  
Kisumi slaps a disbelieving hand over his face. “I’m surrounded by amateurs,” he muffles against his palm. He fumes a sigh and raises his chin. “You want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself.” His hands lift to attention, startling the group. “First! We’ve got to create…” He curls a Cheshire grin. _“The mood.”_  
  
Kisumi grabs Nii’s wrist and points her hand at a cluster of nearby lily pads, magic glittering between her fingers. “Percussion!”  
  
Frogs hop onto the lily pads and when they land, a soft, musical vibration thrums through the water in a romantic melody.  
  
He yanks her hand in another direction, toward the forest. “Strings!”  
  
Cricket chirping flutters to life and strum in a set of charming notes. Nao and Nagisa stare at each other in disbelief.  
  
Kisumi takes Aki’s arm and guides it into a frantic come-hither motion. “Winds!”  
  
Surely enough, an amorous breeze lulls over the ocean, warm and sultry. Willow trees billow from the shore, casting lustrous shadows over the water, and Aki muffles a groan against Nii’s shoulder.  
  
The rest of the group gape at the scene in shock, but Kisumi just slinks over to Nao and Nagisa and throws an arm around their shoulders, purring, _“Words.”_ His voice thickens with an over-exaggerated Jamaican accent as he sings, _“There, you see her, sitting there across de way –”_  
  
Nao wrenches around, hair bristling with his indignation. “You are _not_ recreating that _Kiss the Girl_ scene from _The Little Mermaid –”  
  
_ “Of course I am!” Kisumi vehemently whispers, everyone hunkering under the dock as Haruka and Makoto surface from under the water. Kisumi glares at Nao with a pout. “Everyone knows in their hearts that they want to recreate that scene, Nao! Are you even a mermaid?!”  
  
Flatly, Nao meets Nagisa’s eyes over Kisumi’s shoulder. “Are you still on good terms with the cranes?”  
  
He pops a happy shrug. “They owe me a favor, so yes!”  
  
Unnerved and truly not wanting to know, Nao nods to the lone silhouette bowing in the shore grass. Nagisa croons lowly and the crane straightens its long neck, eyes following the point of Nagisa’s finger to Makoto and Haruka. It soars through the air, red feathers gleaming under the starry sky, and Makoto gasps in delight, entranced with its grace. Haruka slowly turns around to his friends as realization dawns on his face and he quickly gives them an encouraging nod.  
  
Invigorated with excitement, they continue. Nii whispers to her faeries and sends them across the channel to hover over the water in a swarm of pulsing lights. Aki pinches her tongue between her teeth in concentration and sweeps her arms together, her magic just strong enough to make the waves push Haruka into Makoto’s chest. Instinctively, Makoto’s hands shape his waist to steady him, chuckling when Haruka ducks his head to blush.  
  
They relax under the romantic ambiance, drawing closer, Makoto’s legs grazing Haruka’s tail every time he kicks to stay upright. He’s entranced with the way reflections from the faery lights turn Haruka’s wet lashes amber and how his frame practically sings as their bodies press together. Makoto’s thumb traces the maze of blue tattoos across Haruka’s chest, trailing up to his throat, then his mouth. He thumbs the blue stripe down the center of his lower lip and slowly meets his eyes.  
  
Haruka shivers. “We have a word for this,” he murmurs against Makoto’s fingers, brushing his mouth there.  
  
Makoto is surprised there is a word for such intimacy in any language. He leans in, tracing the curve of Haruka’s ear with his lips, whispering against it. “What is the word?”  
  
Urgently, Haruka frames his face for a slow kiss, so savoring and carnal that Makoto’s blood roars with it. Haruka sighs against his lips, _“Theoptia.”  
  
_ Under the warm haze of his brain, Makoto mulls the word over and smiles. “That’s beautiful.” They watch the cranes graze through the shore grass as starlight plays in the waves. His gaze wanders over Haruka’s face and he wonders, “Do you have a word for…” He swallows, gathering the strength for their eyes to meet. “The people you love?”  
  
Haruka smiles shyly. “There are many words for you.”  
  
Makoto’s heart threatens to burst in complete silence.  
  
_“Ta matia mou,_ that’s ‘my eyes.’” He absently cards a hand through Makoto’s damp hair. _“Aghapimenis,_ that’s ‘beloved.’ _Eromenis_ has the same meaning as that, but with more…” His gaze darts restlessly. “Intimate concepts. Like ‘lover.’”  
  
Makoto’s face floods with warmth. “Oh.”  
  
“But all of those words narrow down to one meaning: mate.”  
  
Beneath the surface, his hands pet Haruka’s waist as Makoto withers a laugh. “The term ‘boyfriend’ sounds so lacking now.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes light with hope. “Am I your boyfriend?”  
  
Excitement and nervousness collide like a ball of light in Makoto chest and he can scarcely believe he remembers how to speak. “Do you want to be?”  
  
He laughs when Haruka splashes him with indignation. “Of course I do.” Makoto flips his drenched bangs away and kisses at Haruka’s pouting lips until they upturn into a smile.  
  
Makoto pulls back with his heart clenching in excitement. “Does that make me your mate?”  
  
“Only if you want to be.”  
  
Haruka splutters when Makoto swats water at him, as if he wasn’t expecting it in the slightest, but they’re both smiling when their lips find each other once more.  
  
The other Derketo take a collective breath of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter artwork by [starshi](http://starshi.tumblr.com/post/162368536565/more-merbabe-haru-ill-spare-you-the-nsfw)
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> Haruka stares up at him with his face sunken in grief. “And I’d tell you **_s’agapo_** as much as I could.” | **_“I love you.”_** In an unconditional sense.
> 
> Makoto nods, blinking when Kisumi hisses, “That **_kuna.” | “Bitch.”_**
> 
> Aki pats his hand in fretful apology. “Sorry, **_Koukla.” | “Doll.”_**
> 
> “We have a word for this,” he murmurs against Makoto’s fingers, brushing his mouth there. Haruka sighs against his lips, **_“Theoptia.” | "Seeing God."_**
> 
> Up Next: The Zagreus is captured.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi y'all! i wanted to say a quick apology for the hiatus - life kind of got swept up at once. i started a new uni, moved, finished my other fic, eyes wide open all the time, and now i'm in my midst of finals, but i was very happy to finally return to this au! 
> 
> i made a [guide](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/161785559015/mermaids-a-guide) to the all the species derketo of coral and bone, including sections about their culture and such if you'd like to give it a read! 
> 
> this chapter hasn't been beta read, but i'm not the only one swarmed with finals right now, so please be understanding! thank you a lot and i hope you enjoy!

* * *

 Life with merfolk is different – vastly so, to a degree in which Makoto can scarcely believe this is real life – yet he has never enjoyed anything so much.   
  
The Derketo are like blue paint dripped in water; billowing color that saturates his empty, clear world in vibrant mystery. He’s in on the biggest cosmic joke, a secret that nobody would believe even if he screamed it. Yet he does not feel _chained_ to this new world that’s crashed into him like ocean waves. This magic is freeing, ruthlessly so, never allowing a dull moment to enter his day.   
  
At Trident’s Point, Makoto notices things about his coworkers that he once didn’t. For example, when a tourist says something about mermaids with ignorant excitement, Kisumi shoots Makoto an amused smirk, never seeming afraid of the talk.   
  
Another thing Makoto notices? Nao has quotas to meet in the gift shop, so sometimes when a customer picks an item up, Makoto hears the Siren hum. Nao’s song is a warm vibration that makes Makoto taste lavender in his mouth and he feels drowsy, far more open to suggestion, or at least too languid to care. Nao’s humming is barely noticeable in volume, absent and soft as he beads necklaces, his eyes glowing just a little too bright under the sweep of his lashes in the evening shadows, but when the song is finished, the customer is suddenly inclined to buy the item they’re holding.  
  
Now Makoto understands why Nagisa hums to Rei if he’s stressed, or why Kisumi murmurs a song to Asahi in the chaos of the dinner rush.   
  
While Aki and Nii are not Sirens, Makoto notices a change in their behavior as well. If Aki’s waitressing on the balcony and clouds gather overhead, she gives the sky a reprimanding look and the sun comes out again. He assumes the ability comes from her being a storm-bringer, or a  _Briareos,_  according to the terminology Haruka tries teaching him.   
  
If a group of men eating on the restaurant balcony leers at Aki’s backside while she’s waitressing, Nii whispers something under her breath like she’s speaking backwards and the hanging ferns grow, vines slithering down the columns while everyone eats unaware. The vines wrap around a man’s ankles to trip him when he gets up and he crashes to the floor, getting a bleeding nose in the process. “They’re lucky I didn’t ask the fae to spit in their drinks,” Nii says flatly to Makoto. “They would have been talking in rhyme for weeks.” She tucks some clips deep into her lush hair and like chameleons, faeries fade from glowing purple to bronze to blend in with the clips, sticking against them like accents.   
  
Having a merman as a boyfriend is different in the best of ways, but Haruka is as ethereal as ever, even when he’s slaving away at the marina. His sweat  _shimmers,_  for God’s sake. Makoto is  _too_  aware of how physically unbalanced they are, but Haruka gasps quietly each time their arms brush at work as if Makoto’s touch  _shocks him_ and he might not want him to stop.   
  
Makoto isn’t sure what “normal” dating is like, given that he’d never done it before being with Haruka, but he’s pretty sure their relationship is on the other end of the spectrum for romantic normalcy, which he is  _totally_ fine with.   
  
On their day off, Makoto decides to take his grandfather’s row boat out to the forest river behind the house. The gliding stream is a single vein in a wetland maze that bleeds into the ocean.  
  
There’s something about the lush overgrowth of an untouched forest that makes Makoto feel honored to be in the stillness  – no traffic can be heard as owls echo back and forth to one another, and monstrous lily pads drape the river with flowers that are the most pure shade of white Makoto’s ever seen.   
  
He rows by swans wading drowsily, bowing their elegant necks to sleep, and their babies are grey tufts fluttering through the shallows. Willow trees bow over the river, creating a cavern as their moss throws lacy shadows across Makoto’s arms. The air is damp with warmth, sweet with wildflowers, and romantic.  
  
The water ripples as Haruka breaks the surface, his hair wet and glossy like black ink. Makoto waves at him and Haruka sways his fin, making him chuckle. His arms work vigorously to keep rowing while all it takes is one swish of Haruka’s tail to keep up with him. They have no set course down the river, only the excitement to explore as possible.   
  
Makoto takes a break when he comes to still water, biceps sore and aching, then curiously asks, “What’s it like underwater here?”  
  
Haruka cracks one eye open, then the other. “Murky.” He untangles some vines from his hair with an annoyed frown. “It’s a different kind of murky than the ocean, though – this is green, where the ocean is grey. This water tastes… earthy, I guess.” A glint twinkles in his eye like a shooting star. “The crocodiles are curious about you.”  
  
Makoto’s face drains pale and Haruka bites his lip around a smirk, which results in him getting splashed. Haruka laughs and swims closer, folding his arms over the side of the boat as Makoto sulks nervously. “I’m sorry, I’m kidding.”   
  
Makoto pouts, but all it takes is one slow, apologetic touch down his thigh to have his heart fluttering once more. He carefully drags a finger over one of Haruka’s forearm fins, all the way down to the diamond-sharp tip. He moves the Derketo’s fingers this way and that to watch his blue nails change in the light, then he kisses the back of his hand, making Haruka tuck his mouth behind his arm to hide a smile. Makoto asks, “Are  _you_  not worried about swimming with crocodiles?”  
  
“No, they’re skittish around me. They’re used to seeing Derketo, since Demeter – ah, Nii’s mother – gave life to her in this river, but they don’t really know what to make of me since I don’t have a crocodile’s tail like she does.” His voice falls solemnly. “If anything, they’re afraid of you _._  Poachers come here at night sometimes. As a Melusina – a protector of waterways – Nii does what she can to defend this river, but she can’t save all the wildlife from humans. There’s only so many bait hooks she can cut down.”   
  
Makoto perks up. “We should help her sometime, then.”  
  
Haruka shakes his head in disbelief, voice lost to adoration. “You’re so brave.”  
  
Makoto blushes and shrugs before continuing to row. “Not really, it’s just the right thing to do.” He withers with inadequacy because he’s the farthest thing from brave or beautiful, which are traits that Haruka overflows with.   
  
The boat lurches and Makoto yelps, flailing as Haruka lifts himself up on the side of the boat to kiss him. Makoto startles at the touch of his mouth, then falls into it with a moan, hugging Haruka’s waist to keep them pressed together. Makoto doesn’t know what comes over him, but he teases his tongue inside Haruka’s mouth, and every sensation feels a dozen times more intense. Makoto swears he feels Haruka’s heartbeat racing in the air and his thoughts go haywire with the need to  _taste_  his pulse, to make him change forms and see if he’s as soft between the legs as his lips are –  
  
The boat dips with their weight and rolls Makoto into the water with a stinging  _smack_ of his cheek against the surface, bringing him back to cruel reality quite nicely. Makoto tastes mud and swims through the syrupy murk, breaking the surface with a gasp.   
  
His eyes blink open to find Haruka panting like that kiss swept the air from his lungs – gills? Makoto isn’t sure, he can’t exactly process thoughts right now; his mind is nothing but hollow heat as he looks over Haruka’s flushed face. His very _pores_ glow, flaring with his pulse, and his hair is a mess from Makoto’s hands.   
  
Their gazes lock and embarrassment leaves them rigid because they almost lost control with one another before the boat flipped. What would have happened if they had kept kissing? The thought makes Makoto’s spine feel like a column of fire.  
  
They quickly look away and Makoto scrambles to flip the boat over because he is  _not_  about to take a chance swimming in the near vicinity of  _any_  crocodiles, regardless if they’re scared of merfolk or not.  
  
He hauls himself into the boat and rakes his hair back, heavy with the weight of his drenched clothes. He peels his shirt off to wring it out, chills erupting under Haruka’s stare. Makoto sees a hot quiver tighten Haruka’s features, a lustful look that Makoto’s only _dreamed_ of guys having when they look at him.   
  
He follows Haruka’s eyes and looks down at himself, realizing what he’s seeing: a summer’s worth of vigorous labor out in the merciless sun. He’s dark with a tan and has stronger definition in his muscles, biceps rounder, forearms corded with power. He’s nowhere near the  _literal Greek gods_  Haruka’s probably used to, but his desire leaves Makoto burning with a pride he’s never felt in his life.   
  
At least until Haruka’s eyes move to his face, then Makoto’s back to fidgeting self-consciously. “Sorry,” Haruka blurts – for what, Makoto isn’t quite sure, but he looks a little too awkward – too _flustered_  – to be thinking clearly.   
  
Makoto smiles fondly. “Are you all right? Do you feel okay?”  
  
Haruka sighs and gazes up at him from the water, expression thrown open in vulnerability. “I feel human.”   
  
Makoto laughs breathlessly and the merman blushes through a smile. “Me too.” 

* * *

The great Derketo migration is set to peak in mere weeks.   
  
During one of many adventurous nights out on the open water, hunting for the rogue Zagreus, Haruka tries to explain just how important the event is to his kind. “Everything, even our biology, evolved to the migration. Female Derketo are pregnant for twelve months; most pregnancies occur at the migration, so during the rest of the year, the father of the baby accompanies the mother on travels – protecting her, hunting for her, keeping her generally happy until the next migration to Iwatobi, when the baby will be born.”  
  
“Children are considered a treasure among all sub-species of Derketo,” Nao adds as he swims up beside Haruka. “It’s an unspoken rule that everyone is to defend them.”  
  
Kisumi nods. “We’re fiercely protective of children.”  
  
Aki sits up on a rock formation in the water, curling her tail around Nii’s as the Melusina naps. “When everyone gets to the sea caves, nobody will hesitate to watch over a newborn so the parents can rest. Entire groups of Derketo will hunt food for new mothers so they can build up their strength.” She perks a smile. “We have an overall sense of kindred connection whether we are Nereid, Siren… Even if we spend the entire year wandering the ocean alone, we always have the migration to look forward to. We get to celebrate each other, mingle for companions or mates, and find purpose by caring for the new babies.”  
  
Nao grins at Rin, Makoto, and Natsuya’s surprised stares. “So the migration is not only at the center of our family lives – it’s at the core of the Derketo as a species.”  
  
Makoto’s role is to greet the merfolk coming to Trident’s Point to begin their lives as humans. When Rin first tells him the decision, Makoto’s stomach drops with the immensity of the task but he fluttered a nod. Rin smiles in understanding as the sit on the ledge of Natsuya’s boat. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You won’t be on your own. I told my family that I’m helping Natsuya out with security at night, so I’ll be able to show you the ropes.”  
  
Haruka emerges a few yards away, breaking the water’s surface in one fluid motion. His arms work to keep himself upright, collarbones flexing, then he notices Makoto’s anxious expression. The merman’s tattoos flare before he hesitantly swims over, his gauntlet streaked with moonlight as he reaches for Makoto’s hand.  
  
Makoto smiles in reassurance, taking Haruka’s hand and marveling how small it is – how much magic and strength overflows every pore and scale. The damp warmth of his skin is comforting, yet the naked touch has Makoto’s heart lurching up his throat, making it hard to breathe.   
  
Haruka meets the want in his gaze and shakily takes his hand back as redness seeps down his throat. Rin glances away to smirk, then Haruka says, “The Derketo will appreciate your sincerity, Makoto. It comes off you in waves.”  
  
Makoto’s chest clenches and flushes at his raw adoration, but Natsuya destroys the moment by slapping him on the back with rough gusto. “Just be yourself, offer them food. If they’re ready to use their legs, just take them to the bunk room in my house boat and we’ll handle it from there.”  
  
Nagisa perks out of the water and Kisumi lazes to the surface. Nao follows, sliding into the inflatable lifeboat roped to Natsuya’s vessel; Makoto and Rin had been rowing the lifeboat to track the Derketo more closely. Nao stretches luxuriously, drinking up the moonlight as his fin swishes, and the silver bangles around his tail chime with the motion. He offers Makoto that resting smile. “You just need to be nice to them, that’s all. Respond to their fear with kindness and that alone can destroy centuries worth of prejudices.”  
  
Nagisa nods, molten light flaring through his curls. “It did for all of us!”  
  
Makoto glances at them warily. “You’re sure?”  
  
Kisumi purrs a laugh as he circles the boat with a predatory smirk. “Well, three of us have fell in bed with humans, so – oh, excuse me,  _four?”_ He arches a sly brow at Haruka, making his scales bristle as the other Derketo laugh at his fuming embarrassment.   
  
Makoto almost swan dives into the ocean to drown himself. Ever since that day on the river with Haruka, they’ve avoided being alone together – they haven’t even kissed since then. Just being around each other at work is almost too much. At the docks, Makoto hears Haruka panting with the weight of a crate and wonders if he’d breathe the same beneath Makoto. He dreams about sounds, tastes, touches, and wakes with aching loneliness.  
  
It’s almost a relief to be separated from Haruka during the migration planning. At night, Makoto stays at Trident’s Point with Rin, Nagisa, and Kisumi to greet any Derketo who want to become human. During that time, Nii and Aki continue hunting for the rogue Zagreus out in the bay. Haruka is stationed at the sea caves, acting as the voice of authority to the migrating Derketo. Mothers are already giving birth, so mates are being territorial and difficult, not to mention it’s nearly impossible to keep Derketo children contained to the sea caves when they have enough energy to swim the coast line. Haruka is very rightfully overwhelmed, so Nao assists him at the sea caves as Natsuya mans his boat a few miles out to guard the migration route.  
  
At Trident’s Point, Makoto and his friends wait for other Derketo at the secret dock hidden behind the boat warehouse – it was his grandfather’s private fishing dock, a lone strip of white against the black sea.  
  
Those first few nights at the Point are a lot of fun. Makoto and Rin eat boxes of pizzas on the dock, reaching down to hand Kisumi and Nagisa slices as they swim lazily on their backs. The Derketo give Makoto and Rin new things to laugh at when Nagisa and Kisumi use their weak water bending to push jellyfish at each other, cursing one another in that harmonious, foreign tongue.  
  
Other times, they keep Makoto and Rin enraptured with tales of past migrations until sunrise. “When we were little, me and the other Sirens used to get _so bored_ in the sea caves,” Nagisa groans. “So we’d sneak out and find the beaches where sea turtle eggs were hatching – we’d scare off any dogs or ghost crabs trying to eat them.”  
  
Kisumi smiles fondly at the memory. “That’s how we learned our first spells. And once the eggs hatched, we loved playing with the sea turtles in the water.”  
  
Makoto’s mind drifts to Haruka in the hours when the moon is highest, at its loneliest point in the sky. The yearning for him is a physical ache in Makoto’s chest, a cry that only he can hear. He gazes at the ocean, thinking of the merfolk swimming beneath its surface. He prays that they’ve had safe journeys, but he also hopes that they know how lucky they are to have so much of Haruka’s time.  
  
Two new Derketo show up at Trident’s Point. The first is a Briareos like Aki; he calls himself Hiyori. He’s very competitive and confident in his ability to summon storms, which Aki is not, and he’s earnest in meeting the expectations of being a good human. He starts out at the Point by cleaning the docks with Ikuya, whom he teases to a degree that borders flirting, but Ikuya eventually opens up to him, if only because they complain about the same things.  
  
The next merman that shows up is Mochizuki. He takes an odd shine to Makoto – the Derketo spends most of his time in Natsuya’s house boat, resting from his travels through mystical, underwater cities, but Mochizuki enjoys venturing out onto the docks to talk with Makoto. He follows him around the marina, through the restaurant, and even to the bathroom. At that point, Makoto has to gently tell him that humans appreciate privacy in places such as the restroom. However, as soon as he’s back outside, Mochizuki is once again glued to Makoto’s hip and talking his ear off with questions.  
  
Makoto truly doesn’t mind, he’s just a bit curious as to why Mochizuki looks at him like they’re in on a joke that the other Derketo don’t know about. Come to think of it, Mochizuki seems to trust Makoto more than his fellow merfolk.  
  
Makoto has no choice but to dismiss the odd behavior when Trident’s Point is bombarded with customers that weekend. It’s chaos from the moment Makoto clocks in; there’s a charity surf meet at the beach and the Point is at the heart of the excitement, decked out in sponsor banners that flutter in the ocean wind. The beach is a glittering, white strip as far as the eye can see and the sun throws rainbow prisms over the water.  
  
A local band plays at the restaurant and Makoto hurries by them to bring Asahi and Momotarou the bags of ice they need at the tiki bar. Spectators are swarming for drinks, but the two redheads have buckets of charm and Red Bull-infused exuberance, which fills the tip jar up in record time.  
  
Makoto and Gou help Aki and Nii carry food trays to customers, and he quickly learns that not dropping a tray should be considered a superpower. They weave through the maze of tables on the beach, twisting past Seijuro, Kazuki, and Uozumi as they overcrowd the host’s stand to keep the line of waiting customers laughing.  
  
After that, Makoto helps Rei at the pedal boat booth, trying to get a certain number of them rented out by noon. Truth be told, the pedal boat set-up is rather sad – about a dozen of them bob in the water, tied up to a lone, rickety dock that looks like something out of an ocean-based horror movie, but Rei takes the challenge of meeting his quota head on.  
  
He flops a customer service manual into Makoto’s lap and it almost breaks his knees. It’s a heavy binder with immaculate formatting, written by Rei, of course, and he promises that everything Makoto needs to know about the lost art of renting pedal boats will be found in the text.  
  
At that point, Makoto blinks. “Ah, Rei? We’ve got like, thirty minutes to rent out fifteen of these. I’m not sure if I can read this whole thing by then.”  
  
So that’s why Rei stations Makoto by the highway to lure in beach traffic by sign-spinning, which includes dancing to music that isn’t even there. The task involves getting honked at and wolf-whistled by passing cars, but luckily, Makoto doesn’t have to do it for long because Rei is a master at luring families of pedestrians to the pedal boat booth with elaborate descriptions of, _“5-SEATED LUXURY VESSELS CRAFTED WITH DURABLE POLYETHYLENE FOR MAXIMUM FLOTATION, INCLUDING HYDRO-DYNAMICALLY DESIGNED CANOPIES THAT ACT AS A BARRIER BETWEEN YOU AND HARMFUL RAYS!”  
  
_ At one point, all he receives is blank stares, and his eyes fall flat as he adds, “There’s also a built-in cooler and cup holders for alcohol.”  
  
The crowd blinks at each other before rushing the booth, and Makoto finally gets whisked back to the marina. He passes by families lining up on the docks for the dolphin tour and he smiles at Kisumi and Nagisa as they show children how to put on their life jackets.  
  
Since Natsuya is busy parking a yacht that looks more valuable than most houses, Makoto goes to Rin for his next station. He has trouble finding him in the crowd of people, but he notices Sousuke on Dock 7, using nothing but a rope to haul a bass boat into its slot. His muscles bulge as he pulls harder and Makoto nervously steps up to him with lifted brows. Sousuke nods, allowing Makoto to help him pull the boat in so they can properly tie it up against the dock.  
  
They heave for breath afterward, wavering in the summer heat with sweat drenching their clothes. Sousuke palms his shoulder with a gritted curse and Makoto goes to the nearest work cooler to grab them both some water. Sousuke huffs his thanks and uses his good arm to bring the bottle to his lips and Makoto winces in sympathy. “Is today your first day back?” At Sousuke’s nod, Makoto chews his lip. “Should you really be doing physical labor right now?”  
  
Sousuke wipes his mouth. “Doc said no lifting. I’m not lifting.”  
  
Makoto says dryly, “Hauling in _a bass boat_ isn’t lifting?”  
  
Sousuke gives an exasperated smirk. “I was on my way to relieve Nao in the gift shop – I just saw the boat untied. No big deal.” He hesitates, glancing around. “But, you know, if Rin asks? He’d kick my ass if he found out, so…” He raises his brows.  
  
Makoto sighs loudly and Sousuke chuckles.  
  
A thought strikes him. “The gift shop is on the other side of the Point. What were you doing out here?”  
  
Sousuke tenses, then quickly shakes his head. “Nothing, I was just…” His eyes drift to the surfers out in the water and the grief in his eyes is unfathomable. He sighs in defeat. “I’ll be able to surf again soon, so I should be grateful, but not being able to get on my board and just _go_ …” He rolls his lips into a scowl and glances down, fumbling with his woven red bracelet. “Sorry. Rin’s in the boat warehouse if you were looking for him.”  
  
Makoto nods in gentle understanding and heads that way, ducking into the cool darkness of the monstrous building. The beeping of forklifts echoes through the yawning space and Makoto’s gaze climbs the aisles of stacked boats until a flash of maroon catches his eye.  
  
He finds Rin up on a crane with Toro, drilling away at a newly installed shelving unit that climbs fifty feet into the air. Rin yells down at Makoto to go help Nakagawa at the dolphin tour registry, then he stops Makoto with another holler to go find Haruka in aisle fourteen instead - after that, they both need to go take their lunch breaks.  
  
Makoto’s heart falters, but he shakily calls back an affirmative. He composes himself and jogs through the looming rows, hurrying through stacks of bowriders and cruisers, trying to find any sign of this mystical “aisle fourteen,” until he’s lost deep in the building.  
  
He hobbles on his tired, blistered feet until at long last, he finds Haruka, his head craned all the way back to look up at a shelf of speed boats. Haruka notices Makoto and blushes under the swaying overhead lights, then nods in greeting. Makoto takes a breath and smiles, making an effort to stay focused on Haruka’s face instead of giving into the impulse of looking down at his body, how his dry-fit shirt shapes to the contours of his muscles –  
  
Makoto clears his throat. “Hey.”  
  
Haruka twitches a smile like he cannot stop himself. “Hi.”  
  
“What’re you doing all the way back here?”  
  
Scowling, Haruka shows him the hose he’s holding. “I’m supposed to figure out what boat this fell off of.”  
  
Makoto stares. “You’re kidding.”  
  
“I wish.” He fumes a sigh, whispering, “Just because I’m a Derketo doesn’t mean I have a spell to find out which boat this damned thing came off of. Rin’s so stupid.”  
  
Makoto chuckles and rolls his aching neck, then fans out his damp shirt. Haruka looks over his face and frowns, reaching up to glide his cool fingers across Makoto’s cheeks. “Your face is so red from the sun.”  
  
Makoto tries to say something, but he loses his voice at how soothing Haruka’s hands are. With a relieved sigh, he nuzzles into Haruka’s gentle touch, making the Derketo smile. He tenderly kneads the back of Makoto’s sore neck, then rubs his thumbs into his shoulders. “You should take a break,” Haruka murmurs.  
  
Makoto nods dazedly. “Yeah, I am. Rin told me to find you so we can go take our lunch break.”  
  
He glares down at the hose. “I still need to find out where this came from.”  
  
Makoto reaches out to inspect the hose. It’s pink, which is a bit odd for boat hardware, and it’s braided nylon, which is also a little confusing. He runs his thumb over the bolt on the end, finding the raised indentions of a logo, and reads it to himself. “XS Scuba…” He grins in realization. “Oh! I think this is a hose for scuba diving – you know, it’s part of the gear.”  
  
Haruka crosses his arms. “It still fell off of one of the hundreds of boats in here.”  
  
Makoto rocks back on his heels in thought, then perks up. “Every boat owner has to give the marina a list of items in the vessel for insurance purposes, right? Maybe we can look through the database on the computer at the front desk and find what boats were listed with scuba gear.”  
  
Haruka glances around before blinking at Makoto. “Okay. Lead the way.”  
  
Makoto turns around, then around again as he tries to remember which way he came. He sags at Haruka, whining, _“Oh my God,_ you don’t know the way back _?”_ The question pitches high with pleading at the end.  
  
Haruka fights a smirk at his miserable, puppy dog eyes. “No.”  
  
Makoto pockets the hose and they start walking, deciding to head straight and hoping for the best. A shelf creaks and echoes in the shadows, causing Makoto to shudder. “I never want to come back here again.”  
  
Haruka smirks. “A lot of employees hang out back here, actually. Or so I’ve heard.”  
  
Makoto’s face twists incredulously. “Why?”  
  
Haruka opens his mouth, then closes it. “I guess because it’s dark. Private.” He gives Makoto a look that makes tension pulse low in his stomach.  
  
“Oh,” he says, voice hollow. He now see’s the warehouse in a new light and quickly tries to steer his thoughts elsewhere. “Ah, how’re things at the sea caves?”  
  
Haruka glances at him for one vulnerable moment, and the exhaustion in his eyes has Makoto reaching out to hold his hand. Haruka sighs, clinging to Makoto’s fingers. “This is one of the happiest times for my kind, but… as the son of Poseidon, everyone looks to me for – well, everything.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease in concern. “Where is your father?”  
  
A shadow haunts his face. “I don’t know.”  
  
“… your mother?”  
  
Emotion sinks into Haruka’s features. “Amphitrite,” he mumbles, sad and loving. He shakes his head once and Makoto leaves it at that, squeezing Haruka’s palm.  
  
“I’m sure you’re making everyone proud.” He brings their intertwined hands to his lips and kisses Haruka’s fingers. “Especially me.”  
  
He smiles achingly, cupping Makoto’s cheek. After a few minutes of walking, Haruka chews his lip. “How’re things here at night?” At Makoto’s questioning look, he adds softer, “With Nagisa, Kisumi, and Rin.”  
  
“Oh,” he breathes, nodding with a smile. “They’re good.”  
  
Haruka looks him over critically. “Are you getting enough sleep?”  
  
Makoto starts to lie, but sighs. “Well, no, but it won’t be too much longer until the migration is over.”  
  
A realization knifes his heart – it won’t be too much longer until _summer_ is over. He’s only got a little over a month before his mother comes to take him back to that city that swallows him whole.  
  
Makoto desperately lunges to another subject. “It’s exciting to see Hiyori and Mochizuki swim at night, too.”  
  
Haruka stiffens, his steps falling a little harder. “Is he bothering you?”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Mochizuki.”  
  
Makoto shakes his head, confused by Haruka’s frown. “No. He definitely asks a lot of questions, but that doesn’t really bother me.” At Haruka’s stubborn silence, Makoto asks, “Why? Did he say something about me?”  
  
He keeps his gaze forward. “He says a lot about you,” he grumbles. “But it’s nothing bad.”  
  
Makoto dumbly utters, “Oh.” They continue walking, his brain muddled before understanding comes to life in screaming color. “Wait, are you _jealous?”_  
  
Haruka startles a blush, steps faltering. “I never said that.”  
  
Makoto crosses his arms and cants his hip.  
  
Haruka closes his eyes to sigh, then bows his head with a defeated whisper. “Of course I’m jealous. He gets to spend every night with you at the Point and I’m off taking care of the migrating Derketo when I should be with you – when the only person I want to take care of is you.”  
  
Makoto’s jaw slacks, his chest collapsing with heartache. “Haruka –”  
  
“It isn’t fair of me to put you through all this,” he interjects, sounding so angry at himself. His eyes glimmer, and Makoto thinks it’s just a trick of the light until the tears are sliding down Haruka’s cheeks. “I’ve already put you through so much… so much you don’t even kn- _mmph!”_  
  
Makoto kisses him hard, tasting passion in the wet heat of Haruka’s tongue, and their restraint breaks in a red flood of lust. Haruka drives him into a column as he licks Makoto’s lips open, gasping his name pleadingly. It sets Makoto’s very cells aflame and they stumble backward into the makeshift alley between two stacks of boats.  
  
The floor is cool concrete under his back and Haruka’s weight is restless in Makoto’s lap, insistent and needy, but Makoto takes pause and sits upright to smear Haruka’s tears away. He thumbs his swollen lower lip as they breathe roughly in the ecstatic shadows, and Makoto frames his face, their bodies trembling, skin pulsing. “Haruka,” he whispers. “You’re the only Derketo I love and the only boy I love – the only _person_ I’m literally going crazy over. What’s gotten into you?”  
  
Haruka’s brows furrow over closed eyes and he buries his face in Makoto’s neck. As he clings to him, Makoto rubs through his hair, pressing kisses under his ear. “You can’t keep feeling so guilty,” he whispers. “I choose you. I love you.”  
  
Haruka leans back, eyes glowing in the soft darkness. He takes a deep breath, then nods, bringing Makoto’s hands to his lips with overwhelming adoration.  
  
The blue fire of Haruka’s gaze makes heat pour between Makoto’s legs and he feels doom approaching. He tries to be gentle in nudging Haruka off his lap, but the Derketo stubbornly sits, unmovable, then he glances down in wide-eyed realization.  
  
It’s the most embarrassing moment of Makoto’s life. Worse than sign-spinning.  
  
Slowly, Haruka’s half-lidded eyes venture to Makoto’s face. He presses down on his lap and Makoto gasps, fingers digging into Haruka’s hips with a shudder. Their lips linger an inch apart before falling together, their kiss slow and deep as their hips move up and down, twisting closer, harder together. Makoto’s blood spikes hotter with every lurch, his pulse hammering in his throat. Haruka grinds against Makoto’s abs and he realizes with a start that he’s hard too, which should have been obvious from the start, but feeling the shape of his cock through his pants, knowing that he’s reacting that way because of _Makoto_ – it’s unbelievable and mesmerizing and he can’t stop thinking until all at once, he can’t remember his own name.  
  
He moves up between Haruka’s legs, feels thighs clenching his hips as Haruka rakes his nails under Makoto’s shirt. Their breaths come faster and Haruka tries to find his mouth in the dark but latches onto Makoto’s neck instead, squeezing his teeth into the skin before licking over the soreness and doing it over and over again. Makoto finds Haruka’s throat and kisses into it, sucking hard and making his body jolt. Haruka gasps his name and that’s what sends Makoto over the edge, all of his muscles clenching with a dizzying release, and a few seconds later, Haruka seizes against him and comes with a broken sound, heat flashing off his skin.  
  
They pant in the aftermath, resting their damp foreheads together as reality seeps back to life. Dazedly, Makoto opens his eyes and Haruka blinks back, pupils blown wider than ever and the blueness of his eyes surging. They smile breathlessly at one another until they hear footsteps and they scramble behind the nearest boat. Two pairs of work boots shuffle by, then pause as the shelves groan. Makoto and Haruka stay rigid, then sigh in relief as the workers continue down the aisle and out of earshot.  
  
They find their way back to the warehouse entrance hand-in-hand but freeze when Nao turns his gaze to them from the reception desk, eyes widening at how disheveled Makoto and Haruka are with their wrinkled clothes, sex-flushed skin, and hickies.  
  
Natsuya and Rin round the corner, tossing their welding masks to the side and shaking the sweat from their hair. Natsuya reaches up to smear some grease off his face but his hand stills when he notices Makoto and Haruka. He takes in their rumpled state and sits his blow torch down with a grimace-worthy bang. Flatly, he says, “Are you fucking kidding me?”  
  
Rin rolls his lips around to fight a smirk and ducks under the reception desk to get some water from the mini-fridge, sending a half-assed glance of sympathy to Makoto and Haruka. The other ease-dropping employees jump when Natsuya snaps, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you two. I’ve got nine boats to get out of here and on the water by 2 P.M. and you’re _on the clock,_ in the back of the warehouse fucking aro–”  
  
“Natsuya,” Nao sing-songs, not even glancing up from the paperwork he’s organizing. “They’re both working overtime as it is and they were on their lunch breaks, if I recall the schedule I saw you make this morning.”  
  
Natsuya scoffs, throwing his arms out with enough angry exasperation to make everyone but Nao flinch. “They’re on call as long as they’re here, Nao!”  
  
The other employees quickly get back to what they were doing – Toro hurries to flip his welding mask down to fix a shelf while Kazuki and Uozumi fumble through changing the oil in a bass boat.  
  
Nao sighs through his nose and finally looks up, crossing his legs and folding his hands together with a patient smile. Rin lifts his brows with interest and takes a sip of water as Nao says, “Natsuya darling, are you forgetting that night a few years ago when I took your virginity on Dock 5 while _you_ were on the clock?”  
  
Rin sprays out his water, Toro’s welding gun zings off the metal in a flash of sparks, and Uozumi's can of oil startles out of his hand and hits the concrete in a black splash. Makoto looks on in surreal disbelief, but he vaguely hears Rin curling up under the reception desk to weep laughter.  
  
Natsuya’s stare is flatter than roadkill, but Nao’s resting smile never falters. He serenely turns back to his paperwork, calling to Makoto and Haruka, “Enjoy the rest of your break. Don’t let it happen again.”  
  
_“Or just don’t get caught,”_ Uozumi and Kazuki whisper as Makoto and Haruka race for the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next - enter: miho amakata & the zagreus is found (for real this time - i had to rework some stuff so that's why the event wasn't in this chapter, but i promise, next chapter! thank y'all so much!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> settle in for a long chapter, fam. and happy holidays! it was a little surreal writing about beachy iwatobi and mermaids during a snow storm. 
> 
> saltyaf, thank you a million times over for being such a wonderful soundboard and beta reader! [(archive of our own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyaf/pseuds/saltyaf/) | [twitter)](https://twitter.com/poutyharu)
> 
> big hug to [katsukis-katsudon](http://katsukis-katsudon.tumblr.com/post/167870484033/just-a-lil-makoharu-aesthetic-i-made-based-off-of%0A) for [this](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/167872882770/katsukis-katsudon-just-a-lil-makoharu-aesthetic) adoooorable cab!makoharu moodboard. it's so sweet, thank you a lot! 
> 
> a note on the greek mythology used in this chapter, specifically thetis and her past with achilles: there's a lot of ways you can take _the iliad_ and i'm writing from the perspective of someone who read it with the conclusion that achilles and patroclus were lovers. needless to say, the debates in my classics class were way too much fun. 
> 
> anyway, we have a specific chapter song this time around! it's [collide by rachel platten](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F66vX1WCRbs). enjoy!

* * *

 

Haruka settles down in the heart of the sea caves, where the water is dark and safe. The tunnels flash from the scales of swimming Derketo, their songs echoing through the night – he recognizes the baritone of his fellow Nereids, the whispering of Sirens, and the clicking of young Briareos as they play with dolphins.  
  
The bundle in his arms squirms awake, little fists pushing into his chest with a sleepy whine. Haruka hums louder, situating the baby’s cheek against his heart, and the newborn Siren snuggles into his warmth. Haruka rubs her fin, which is small enough to pinch between two fingers, and the comforting touch sends her back to sleep.  
  
He would drift off himself, were his mind not plagued with thoughts, so he busies himself with singing to keep the baby Derketo asleep. Restless, he swims through the tunnels, keeping her cradled against his chest as he glances things over. Mates are coming back from hunting trips, some carrying big game like octopuses or stingrays; when they recognize Haruka, they bow their heads in respect, and he represses a sigh as he nods back. Playing children flutter out of his way, gazing at him with big eyes full of admiration that he does not deserve.  
  
At long last, he pushes layers of tall seaweed aside to reveal the cave where new mothers rest under the protection of their fellow Derketo. Haruka returns the baby in his arms to her young mother, who thanks him with a tired whirl of her voice.  
  
A shadow falls over the cave and the sudden presence of a god leaves Haruka’s veins burning, the ichor in his blood reaching out. While everyone else bows their heads, he turns to the cave entrance and sees a looming figure who, though female, is far broader than any male Derketo. She has carried strength over centuries of war, starvation, and hiding, yet still holds herself with the ethereal grace of a goddess – the leader of the Nereids. Her eyes are black pits, the color of her scales drained grey from the pollution of her ocean, but her smile is the most wonderful thing Haruka has seen in a long time.  
  
_Thetis._

* * *

They hunt together for a while; Thetis taught him how to hunt at a younger age than most Derketo children, so he was lugging porpoises home by the time he was six. She tried to give him survival skills and a good childhood at the same time; they spent summers in Atlantis, but she made him wake up early each morning to practice escaping from her fishing nets. Thetis has always been over-protective of him, maybe because he’s the son of Poseidon and one of her Nereid sisters, Amphitrite – or perhaps it’s because she has already lost a son by a human’s hand. Achilles was braver than Haruka and everyone knows that.  
  
They watch the sun rise from their perch on some rocks in the open water. Haruka tries to stop glancing back at Iwatobi’s skyline as morning light flares off the skyscrapers. He aches to feel sand between his toes, Makoto’s mouth on his neck –  
  
Thetis looks him over. “You are well?”  
  
Haruka ducks his head in embarrassment, replying in Greek. “Yes, I am fine. How is my mother?”  
  
Thetis sighs, her tattoos glowing over her rounded biceps in the morning shadows. “Sick, but safe. She does not want you to worry about her.”  
  
His voice thickens with tears. “She isn’t coming to Iwatobi for the migration?”  
  
“She would not survive the journey, dear one. I am sorry.”  
  
Grief knifes his heart and he hugs himself around the middle. Thetis changes the subject with a resolute flick of her tail. “Your friends are in good health?”  
  
Haruka nods and Thetis muses, “You seem to be adjusting to the change well, living amongst the humans.” She makes a face at her fin. “I never liked walking. It’s slow and boring.”  
  
Haruka laughs. “Some of us are handling the change better than others. There is a Melusina at Trident’s Point that always has faeries around her… secretly, they make me nervous. But humans scare her, so I think the fae comfort her.” A crab dances across the rocks, expectantly settling on Haruka’s tail like a lap dog, and he strokes its lax claws. “The Sirens at Trident’s Point are always humming. It’s like they have to be in touch with their magic at all times.”  
  
“A nervous habit, I am sure,” Thetis says, startling the crab and making it hop back into the water. Haruka gives the ripples a lonely frown. “The Sirens’ magic makes them feel safe, like the Melusina’s fae make her feel less alone.” She brushes Haruka’s fin with her own. “And what about you? What makes you feel at home with the humans?”  
  
Haruka glances down at the empty spaces between his fingers, chewing his lip, and Thetis’ chest hollows on a gasp. “You are in love?”  
  
He startles under the intensity of her gaze. “How do you know?”  
  
She smiles sadly. “A mother always knows.”  
  
Haruka tenses. “He is very special to me, Thetis.”  
  
She pats his hand so it unwinds from a fist. “No need to fear me, child. This is different than before...” Her voice trails off in sorrow and her hand drifts to her heart. “You are not my Achilles. His Patroclus was human and unworthy of him.” She turns to Haruka with those eyes of unfathomable, all-seeing darkness. “But your Makoto is not human.”  
  
Haruka’s face strains to remain composed. “He is not Derketo, either.”  
  
“But he will be,” Thetis says.  
  
He shakes his head defiantly. “His grandmother was a Derketo, his grandfather was a human. Makoto’s father is oblivious, if – if his own father can’t feel the pull to the sea, then Makoto won’t.”  
  
“But he feels the pull to you.” Thetis’ gaze cuts slyly.  
  
Haruka’s suddenly on the verge of infuriated tears and Thetis frowns. “Why do you fear him reaching his destiny?”  
  
“He is not destined for _this,”_ Haruka says, flapping his fin harshly. “He’s two generations apart from any magic in his genes. _He will not respond to it.”_  
  
She remains still, studying him with severity, then with pity. “You are looking at this the wrong way, dear one. The boy will change forms whether or not you are in his life, but now he has friends and a lover to show him our ways. To be born with legs and destined for a fin will be terrifying for him. He will need you.” She cups Haruka’s cheek, whispering with a voice soft as mist. “This should be a _joy._ He will finally recognize the ocean’s call for him and he will know it as home.”  
  
Haruka swallows, lips trembling open. “His grandparents were killed protecting me. They wouldn’t want Makoto to have a life like I have, or a death like they did.”  
  
“It does not matter what they want – they are dead.”  
  
_“I_ don’t want any of this for him,” Haruka lunges with desperation. “He won’t change – he’ll be _Makoto_ forever.”  
  
Thetis eases back into the water, her hair billowing across the surface. “That is not up to you.” She waits for Haruka to follow her, but he just watches her miserably. He startles when Thetis’ fin splashes him. “If he learned to love you in all forms, then you will love him in as many forms as he does or does not take. Now, come along; I believe I saw a swarm of eels in the West –”  
  
She’s cut off by Haruka diving into the water in a race for their prey and Thetis laughs to herself before taking off after him.

* * *

After working at the marina that morning, Makoto relieves Nao in the gift shop. He flexes his aching feet, eyes falling closed as a cool breeze drifts through the open window. Blacksand’s boats are parked in a row along the dock they’ve rented out; the sight of those vessels makes ice claw down Makoto’s back.  
  
“They say you can’t connect the dots by looking forward; you can only connect them by looking back.”  
  
Makoto turns around to a smirking woman leaning over the counter. She’s older than him, but not by much. Her brown hair falls plainly around her face and while she looks approachable enough with her flannel shirt and cargo shorts, her unblinking eyes are a bit too knowing for Makoto’s liking.  
  
Nevertheless, he quickly checks out her items with the register. She’s clearly not a tourist; the woman bypassed overpriced trinkets and airbrushed t-shirts for a Mountain Dew, a leather bound journal, a directory of local marine life, and a coffee table book Makoto’s grandmother illustrated about merfolk.  
  
The last two items make him stiffen but he realizes how paranoid he would sound if he asked about them, so Makoto just plasters on the fake, customer-service smile he’s mastered during his time at Trident’s Point. But when he goes to bag the book, the woman stops him. “The lady who drew this – she used to work here, right? Did you know her?”  
  
Makoto’s smile falls heavier. “Yeah, she was my grandmother.”  
  
She looks upset with herself, glancing away to blush. “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”  
  
The woman appears genuine, but Makoto’s skin still prickles with suspicion. He gestures to the illustrated book. “You like mermaids?”  
  
She shifts bashfully. “Yeah, I never really grew out of the idea of them.” She thumbs through the pages fondly, hiking a brow at him. “We all need a little magic to believe in, don’t we?”  
  
“… yeah.” Makoto absently rearranges the knickknacks on the counter. “What brings you to Iwatobi? You don’t seem like a tourist.”   
  
She points out the window to Blacksand’s boats and his stomach drops. “I’m a graduate student interning with Blacksand as a marine biology consultant,” she explains. “I wasn’t with the company on their first investigation of Iwatobi a few months ago, so I was curious as to why the owners of Trident’s Point wouldn’t let us use their docks as a base the first time we were here.” She shrugs, twisting the cap on her Mountain Dew. “I guess it was the change in owners from your grandparents to your father.”  
  
Makoto’s dad doesn’t know there are merfolk in these waters that need protecting; he sees Blacksand as a financial opportunity and nothing more.  
  
“I’m Miho, by the way,” she says.  
  
“Makoto. What kind of stuff about Iwatobi are you studying? If you don’t mind me asking...”  
  
“No worries,” she breezes. “Right now I’m just analyzing data from the last investigation. I basically spend all my time in the barracks, hunched over a desk looking over charts.” Miho rolls her eyes in frustration. “Honestly, it’s just paperwork. Busy work, really. It’s hard to convince yourself that you’re making a difference when all you’re doing is reading files, but I guess that’s just what you have to put up with as an intern.”  
  
He straightens with interest. “How would you make a difference if you weren’t stuck doing paperwork?”  
  
Miho snorts. “I’d be out there digging up information that could actually help marine life, rather than being kept in the dark about what the other biologists are up to because I’m too ‘inexperienced to have that sort of clearance yet’.” She sighs and gathers up her items, flashing him a lazy smirk. “But anyway, good to meet you. I’ll see you around.”  
  
“Ah, yeah. You too.”  
  
She leaves and Nao steps into the gift shop a few minutes later, startling Makoto from his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder. “I saw that woman come off the boats while I was on the docks with Natsuya. Did she speak to you?”  
  
Makoto shakes his head in a daze. “I mean, yeah, but she was just asking me questions about my grandmother. I just – I’m fine, really, I just need to go talk to my dad, excuse me.” He hurries out the door before Nao can say anything else.

* * *

Despite that his experience with Miho was relatively pleasant, Makoto still finds himself unnerved and heads for his father’s office. The man is hunched over his bulky, early 2000s computer, and he leans up in surprise at how frazzled Makoto looks. “Hey. Everything all right?”  
  
He worries his fingers into his palm. “Can we talk for a second?”  
  
His dad nods and rips open a pack of ibuprofen, downing them with a can of root beer – probably fighting a hangover, if that green tint to his skin is anything to go by.  
  
Nervously, Makoto says, “You look sick, Dad.”  
  
He grimaces as he swallows the pills. “Just tired. But what’s goin’ on?”  
  
Makoto glances at the photograph of his grandparents on the corner of the desk – the frame is face down so his father will not have to look at them. “Why are you letting those marine biologists use our docks?”  
  
Dad shrugs like it’s obvious. “They paid a nice chunk of change to use Trident’s Point, since they were in town a few months ago and couldn’t get many good samples. A lot of Iwatobi’s marine life tends to accumulate around the Point, so they were ready to put money down to be here.”

Many good _samples?_ Makoto’s stare pierces him. “You know they approached Grandmother about using the Point and she turned them down.”  
  
His dad fumes a sigh. “She didn’t care about business opportunities like she should have, Mako.” He scrubs a hand over his face, kneading at his temples. “We need this money from Blacksand if we want to have bonuses at the end of the season. Employees at Trident’s Point go without a full-time paycheck during the winter months; people like Rin and Sousuke have to beg for work in the off season – that’s just how it is for most people in a coastal city, but it might not have to be that way this time around thanks to Blacksand.”  
  
His chest tightens with conflict. “There’s a reason Grandmother told them no, Dad.”  
  
His face twists with exasperation. “What was that reason? Did she tell you?” It comes out sharper than he probably intended, and he leans back in defeat. “Mako, I know you want to honor her memory and trust me, _you are.”_ Makoto closes his eyes against the watery burn. “But this is different. I’ve already heard that Blacksand can be – aggressive, with their research efforts, but this is business. I’ve somehow gotta make all of this work out. I’m sorry.” He glances at the picture frame as he says it.  
  
Makoto slumps out the door to hopelessly trudge through his shift.

* * *

By the time he clocks out, Makoto’s muscles are coiled tight with stress and a headache knifes between his eyes. He flops down on the bench in the employee locker room, raking a hand through his damp hair. Makoto tries to unwind in the silence, the lunch crowd muffled by the walls, but then the door opens and Mochizuki steps inside.  
  
Makoto forces a smile that the Derketo does not return; his brows furrow as he sits down beside Makoto, their knees brushing. “You’re upset.”  
  
He clears his throat and discreetly shifts to put more space between them, feeling exposed under Mochizuki’s unblinking stare. “It’s just been a long day.”  
  
Mochizuki puts a hand on Makoto’s thigh, leaning forward _– too forward_ – until the door opens to reveal Haruka. He bristles, eyes _searing_ as he takes in the scene. A growl rumbles through his chest, making the lockers quiver, and he stares Mochizuki into politely saying goodbye and seeing himself out.  
  
Makoto splutters, “We weren’t –”  
  
“I know _you_ weren’t.” Haruka lets out a jet of air through his nose and his eyes blink back to normal. He takes in how pitiful Makoto looks and steps between his knees to embrace him, kissing all over his face in reassurance. “Did he say something uncomfortable to you?”  
  
“No.” His cheek snuggles against Haruka’s stomach, arms hugging around his waist. “I just need to get out of here. Today was weird and awful. Can we go?”  
  
Haruka kisses at his pouting lower lip until it hikes into a smile. “We can go where ever you want.”

* * *

They walk to the ice cream parlor downtown. It’s overrun with tourists and children screaming through a sugar rush, but there are enough ice cream flavors for Makoto to drown every one of his sorrows in. The vintage 1950s décor is a fun change of scenery, but the true highlight of the day is watching Haruka absently sway to the staticky swing music while eating his minty dessert. His eyes close happily and Makoto snaps a quick picture with his cell phone, making it his wallpaper before returning to his own rocky road lunch.  
  
Their feet play against each other under the table, Haruka’s shoe bobbing against Makoto’s leg as he asks, “What made today so ‘weird and awful’?”  
  
Makoto locks their ankles together with a sigh. “An intern with Blacksand came into the gift shop and it kind of made me nervous.” A curious thought flutters to life. “Were you at the Point the first time they came to Iwatobi?”  
  
Haruka’s voice is far too level – unnaturally so, as if the ocean itself suddenly fell motionless. “No, I wasn’t.”  
  
“…oh.” Why is he lying to Makoto?  
  
He studies his boyfriend, puzzled by the fear in his downcast eyes. He tries to take Haruka’s hand and he flinches away before grimacing in apology. “Sorry,” Haruka breathes. “I, um –” His shoulders hunch as the crowd gets louder. “I think I need to go to the water now.”  
  
With distress burning in his gut, Makoto guides Haruka through the bustling maze of tourists and they hurry out of town. Haruka takes him to a secluded beach hidden by the mountainous, spherical rock formation that houses the sea caves, and Makoto stands at the shore as Haruka swims out and disappears in a flash of golden-blue light.  
  
He sits in the sand, tracing shapes into the grains, trying to calm his nerves. Why would Haruka lie about not being in Iwatobi during Blacksand’s first investigation? Did they try to capture him? Was he almost one of those “samples” they were trying to obtain?  
  
All at once, a cold shadow falls over him. “You seem troubled, child.”  
  
Makoto heart launches up his throat as he whips around. A woman looms over him, standing well over six feet tall with the sharp face and tiny, sharp teeth of a fox. She’s a presence with her black hair like spilled ink and her dress of rippling blues, but she is not real – Makoto knows that beyond the shadow of a doubt. His tongue is stiff and cold as if he has a mouthful of ice; he only feels such an odd sensation when one of the Derketo cast a spell.

Not to mention this woman has no eyes – just these twinkling, horrifying pinpoints like her eye sockets are full of diamonds.  
  
But Makoto does not feel like she is there to harm him, since she made an effort to look human enough that he would not truly have a heart attack. She sits down beside him and he tries not to shrink away, keeping his gaze firmly on the water, desperately searching for any sign of Haruka. The woman looks him over with approval. “You are handsome.”  
  
Makoto almost throws up. “Uh. Thank you?”  
  
She clearly thinks his fear is amusing. “I am called Thetis. You are Makoto. You are here with – ah, what do you call him? Haruka.” He turns to face Thetis fully and she addresses his confusion. “He is the child of gods; his true name could never fit in man’s mouth.” Thetis leans back on her hands to gaze at the ocean. “He does not know I am here – you will not tell him I spoke to you.”  
  
Makoto’s blood runs cold. “I don’t want to keep secrets from him.”  
  
“Even though you know he is lying to you about something?” Thetis arches a brow at him. “Tell me, what do you feel when you look out at the water?”  
  
Dumbfounded, he stares out at the sea. “Fear,” he says honestly. “Curiosity sometimes, I guess.”  
  
“Why do you fear it?”  
  
“Because it’s so… unfathomable. It just goes on forever.”  
  
Thetis hums, not disagreeing with him. “Do you know what species of Derketo your grandmother was? They are homebodies much like you.”  
  
Makoto never thought to ask such a question, but now the curiosity threatens to eat him alive. He turns to Thetis for an answer, but she spots something in the water and fluidly rises to a stand. “Ask Haruka why he does not like Mochizuki.”  
  
Reeling, he follows her gaze to the ocean then looks back at her, only to see that she has disappeared.  
  
Haruka emerges from the sea, clad in his swim trunks with his shirt slung over a shoulder. He sits down beside Makoto as he silently loses his mind and Haruka squeezes his numb hand. “Are you okay? You’re pale all of a sudden.”  
  
Makoto closes his eyes so he will not have to meet his stare. “I think I’m just tired. I might need to go home.”  
  
“… do you want me to come with you?”  
  
Makoto’s eyes blink open, face flushing. It’s getting late, the sunset spilling liquid fire over the sea – night will fall by the time they get back to Makoto’s house, and his father is sure to be out late on an end-of-the-week drinking binge. He and Haruka will have the house to themselves. Alone. At night. _Alone._  
  
God, they really need to talk but right now, Makoto would rather touch. He swallows, mind swimming in heat, and he turns to watch Haruka’s face flash hot. “Yeah, let’s head home.”

* * *

They stop for take-out on the way home and eat it in the living room, cross-legged on the couch with the porch door thrown open to let the night breeze lull through the curtains. Instead of turning on the television, they listen to the roar of crickets and the yipping of wild dogs in the forest. At one point, Makoto swears he hears children’s laughter echoing through the forest and Haruka grins at his disturbed expression. “Faeries,” he confirms, making Makoto take a hard look at the fireflies dancing in the garden.  
  
When their bellies are full, they fall into the most satisfying carb-coma and snuggle together under a checkered blanket. Curiously, Makoto tips his head against Haruka’s. “Are dragons real?”  
  
Haruka shifts to face him, nestling his chin on top of Makoto’s chest. “They’re not very nice. You couldn’t ride one, if that’s what you’re asking.”  
  
“But they’re real?!”  
  
“What do you think the Loch Ness Monster is? Ever since humans gained the technology to detect basically _everything_ in the sky, they’ve taken to the ocean in hiding. Lots of creatures have.”  
  
Makoto cranes back. “I never would have guessed they could breathe underwater. I thought they could only breathe fire.”  
  
“Magic evolves to protect itself,” Haruka yawns, tucking his cold hands under Makoto’s shirt to run them over his back. “So do people.”  
  
Makoto plays with his hair, pressing a few absent kisses against his temple. “What about Bigfoot?”  
  
Haru scoffs, looking at him incredulously. “Of course he’s not real.”  
  
“Oh.” Makoto deflates. “That would have been neat.”  
  
Haruka runs playful fingers across his ear. “Pegasus flies over Iwatobi sometimes.”  
  
Makoto lurches up. _“Unicorns_ are real?”  
  
“He’s not a unicorn,” he says flatly. “And don’t ever let him hear you calling him that, he’s sensitive about it.”  
  
Makoto gets in his face with a disbelieving whisper. “You’ve spoken to him?”  
  
Haruka blushes the deepest shade of red. “He was sired by Poseidon.”  
  
Makoto stares. “Your father – he – your brother is a –”  
  
Haruka whines in embarrassment, burying his face in Makoto’s neck. “All children of gods have at least one animal sibling. That’s just how it is.”  
  
Makoto pats his back in a bewildered stupor. “That sounds like a very awkward family reunion.”  
  
“You have _no_ idea,” Haruka grumbles, making him laugh and kiss his forehead.  
  
Makoto says, “I thought it was odd for my mother to be having twins.”  
  
“Not hardly.”  
  
Night crashes down but they are too lazy to get up and turn on the lights, so Haruka waves his fingers and lifts the water out of Makoto’s glass on the coffee table; he glides the water through the air and it drinks up the moonlight, glowing silver. Haruka circles his wrist and the water spins itself into a sphere, hardening into rock while continuing to glow. He presses the makeshift nightlight into Makoto’s hand and he rolls it around, entranced with the icy prisms twinkling across his arms. “Can all Derketo make these?”  
  
“No, and I’d only make them for you.”  
  
Makoto blushes, ducking his head to smile shyly. “It’s gonna be hard for me to carry this around.” He reaches into his pocket and shows Haruka the pearl from one of the oysters he gave him on the night they met. “It’s so easy to take this with me everyday.”  
  
Haruka blinks down at the pearl before gazing at Makoto in adoration. He frames his face for a kiss and insistent questions try to push their way out of Makoto’s mouth, but he cannot bring himself to voice them. He needs to forget everything that isn’t Haruka, if only for one night.  
  
The Derketo’s lips dance up his throat. “You make me feel crazy,” he whispers, breathing heat into the shell of his ear.  
  
Makoto’s laugh comes out rough as his fingers tangle in soft hair. “You make me feel crazy, too.” His spine snaps straight as Haruka teases his teeth against Makoto’s earlobe, purring against his skin and making electric sensation pulse down the side of his face, unravelling into trembly need. Their lips find each other and he pulls Haruka’s leg over his hip so he can straddle his lap. This isn’t like those quick pecks between work shifts, worried that someone might see. This kiss moves on its own, like an animal thrown out into the wild for the first time in its life – free, afraid, reckless.  
  
Shyly, they learn how to chase each other’s tongues in the dark, hands skittering under shirts to touch naked skin. “I love you,” Makoto whispers into Haruka’s shoulder, teeth squeezing into the skin as a hot wave of tension swarms his body. “I love you more than anything.”  
  
A heavy emotion weighs down on Haruka but before Makoto can discern it, Haruka’s parting his lips with his own and pushing him down on the couch with a forceful burst of passion. He stays tense under Makoto’s hands, kissing him so hard that the press of his lips hurts like he wants to physically swallow everything about Makoto, trying to push _something_ away. Makoto wants to help him slow down with gentle kisses beneath his jaw, but Haruka’s eyes are closed too tightly and Makoto’s never felt such self-loathing come off someone in waves.  
  
He leans away and clutches Haruka’s chin to study his face in the soft, white glow of the nightlight. Haruka harshly looks away and Makoto cups his face, rubbing his thumb over his tense jaw. Haruka bows his head, whisper falling in defeat. “I can’t.”  
  
“We don’t have to, Haruka –”  
  
_“I want to,”_ he snaps, infuriated with himself. “I want it _so bad,_ I just…” His hands are shaking in Makoto’s hold and when he blinks, his lashes are spiked with tears. “I wanted to have just one night with you before I told you. That way, maybe you wouldn’t – you wouldn’t completely hate me.” He swallows as a stray tear falls. “But that would be so wrong.”  
  
Makoto’s chest tightens, panic vicing his heart. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Haruka stares at him hopelessly, fingers quivering up Makoto’s arms, trying to hold on to him for as long as he can. “Tell me you love me. Just one more time. Please.”  
  
Makoto pulls him forward and licks into his mouth, kissing him in a hard, reverent press _. “I love you.”_  
  
Haruka leans back, lips trembling and swollen. He gazes out the window toward the ocean, voice borne back into the past. “My father has never been a steady presence in my life; it was just my mother and I for the longest time, alone together. Gods gain strength through worship and people stopped believing in her long before the Trojan War, so she’s been dying for centuries. She was too sick to take care of me and sent me away with Thetis to travel with the other Nereids.”  
  
Makoto’s heart lurches, but he doesn’t interrupt.  
  
“I was always running away, going back to my mother so I could hunt for her. One day, I was almost caught by humans.” He shudders in memory. “Mother blamed herself and she was so scared for me that father finally came home. They, along with Thetis, decided I should go to Trident’s Point to learn how to hide amongst the humans.” He breathes a sad, harsh laugh. “It was my dying mother’s last wish. I had no choice but to obey her, so I left.”  
  
Makoto embraces him and Haruka quivers in his hold. “The journey was horrible,” he whispers, eyes wide with vulnerability. “It was so long and lonely, until I finally reached Iwatobi and your grandmother greeted me in the water. She said that I needed to stay hidden – that there were bad people trying to find Derketo in Iwatobi. She made me promise that I wouldn’t swim into Trident’s Point without their protection.”  
  
Broken pieces start falling together in Makoto’s head. Haruka says, “There was a storm that night but your grandparents brought their boat out to lead me to Trident’s Point. Another boat –” He flinches. “I think another boat’s sonar picked up on me and that’s why they blocked our way back to the Point.” Now he cannot stop crying. “Your grandmother told me to go, that there were humans and other Derketo at the Point that would keep me safe.”  
  
Cold numbness swells through Makoto’s heart.  
  
Haruka sighs and it’s the heaviest sound he’s ever heard. “They died protecting me, Makoto. I’m so –” He smears his tears away, bowing his face into his hand.  
  
Makoto whispers, “Is that why you fed me the night we met? Just because you felt guilty?”  
  
_“No._ I didn’t know who you were at first, but I was so drawn to you,” he chokes. He clenches a fist against his stomach in dread. “Your grandmother was a Galatos; a descendent of a Nereid called Galateia. Her kind brings calmness not only to the sea, but everyone around them.” Haruka gazes at him with so much love that it brings tears to Makoto’s eyes. “When I first saw you, I felt peace for the first time since I came to Iwatobi. I finally felt like the guilt might not really kill me.”  
  
Haruka takes his hands pleadingly. “I have felt lost my _entire life._ Aimless and caged. But you made me feel _found,_ not because of whatever ichor might be in your blood or whomever your grandmother descended from. It doesn’t matter that the others can sense it and I don’t give a shit that Mochizuki is a Galatos too and that’s why he’s so attached to you.” He dares to frame Makoto’s face and Haruka’s smile is the most heartbreaking thing he’s ever seen. “You are magic all on your own.”  
  
Makoto reels, torn apart with a storm of emotions. Haruka pulls away, leaves his body cold and abandoned as he slips on his shoes. “I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sure you’re confused and need to think.”  
  
Makoto doesn’t want to be alone – he wants to reach for Haruka, but this new kind of grief _burns_ and cripples him. His eyes fall to the miniature moon on the table, the light continuing to pulse, oblivious of the horrible tension in the air. Haruka says, “Whatever you want to happen – I’ll go along with anything you say.” His breathing shutters, voice hollowing on a whisper. “But please, know that I’d rather swim alone for the rest of my life than hurt you. Your family didn’t ask for this and you don’t deserve this.”  
  
Haruka reaches for the door and Makoto rasps, “But _you_ do?”  
  
His eyes flutter shut and he rests his forehead against the door. “The gods run through my veins. Chaos will follow me no matter how much you love me, and it will prey on you as much as I try to protect you.” He opens those unholy eyes of blue fire. _“Falling in love with a god is not a death sentence,”_ he quotes. _“The story is only a tragedy if the god loves you back_.”  
  
He steps through the front door and when it shuts, Makoto finally cries.

* * *

Haruka does not come to work over the next few days and Makoto hates to say it’s a relief; his revelation threw him into a whole new realm of grief and it’s a fight to survive it.  
  
The other Derketo seem to know something happened between Makoto and their prince, but they do not appear judgmental – they look a little guilty themselves. Makoto doesn’t want to use their shame against them, but he needs answers to questions that are eating him alive, so Mochizuki is pretty _receptive_ one evening when Makoto corners him in the locker room.  
  
“Haruka told me that my grandmother was a – a Galatos,” Makoto stammers, not used to being the demanding person in any conversation, “and that you can sense it in me because it’s what you are.”  
  
Mochizuki nods happily. “Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you finally figured it out.”  
  
“…right.” Makoto’s right eye twitches. “But how is it possible for you to sense _anything_ if I’m not a Derketo?”  
  
Mochizuki parts his lips, giving Makoto an incredulous once over. Curiously, with far too much patience, he asks, “What do you think you are?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Makoto snaps, drained from emotional turmoil. “That’s why I need _you_ to tell me!” He falls back against the lockers. “Mochizuki, please. I’m freaking the hell out. Do you know if there’s something wrong with my body or if – god, is there a chance that my body might… _change?”_ Fear spears his heart. “I’m terrified right now. Please, just be honest with me.”  
  
Mochizuki’s face softens. “You don’t even know how to ‘change,’ Makoto, and it’s not something that can be taught. Even if I were able to put it into words, you’d never be able to understand.” He thumps a fist to his chest. “For me and the other Derketo, _changing_ is an instinct at the core of ourselves as children of the sea. You were born with legs and born by man. If your father hasn’t responded to the ichor in his blood, I doubt that you ever will.”  
  
Makoto frowns. “What’s an ichor?”  
  
Mochizuki chuckles. “Ichor is the blood of the gods – all Derketo have some level of it in our veins.” Makoto exhales with worry and he gently shakes his head. “I could tell that you have Galatos ancestors _because_ I’m a Galatos – magical beings sense magic. It’s that simple. It’s not because you’re going to sprout a tail anytime soon, I promise.”  
  
Makoto’s lips part on a hesitant question and Mochizuki sighs. “I like you so much because Galatos tend to stick together and I’m way out of my element with all these pretty Sirens around, not to mention I’m lonely and awkward. You’re familiar to me in your own way and you’re wonderful by both Derketo and human standards.” He shrugs in defeat. “What can I say?”   
  
Makoto blinks once, twice. “Well. Thank you, but I’m sure there’s a person out there for you. I know that you’re probably nervous around so many new people, but you should give yourself more time to adjust. Things will fall into place.” He walks toward the door and pauses with a wincing smile. “Plus, I’m Haruka’s forever. So don’t hit on me again, please.”  
  
Mochizuki’s grin is accepting as he gives a dry salute. “Will do.”

* * *

Makoto continues to spend nights at Trident’s Point with Rin, waiting for more Derketo to show up. One night around 2 a.m., his cell phone buzzes and stress tightens his features. “Sousuke’s getting suspicious about me being here,” he sighs as he types out another reply, another lie.  
  
Nagisa gives Rin a sympathetic look from the water, as do Hiyori and Mochizuki. Kisumi’s tail is curled around a dock pillar as he floats on his back for a moon-bathing nap, and he cracks an eye open. “He still thinks you’re here to help Natsuya with security?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rin mumbles, standing up to stretch with a groan. “You got a phone charger on you, Mako?” When he shakes his head, Rin swings a key ring around his finger. “I’m gonna go get one from the office. Be right back.”  
  
He clamors down the dock and Makoto sways his feet over the ledge with a sigh. He and the four Derketo wait in companionable silence – Aki and Nii are patrolling the bay while Nao and Haruka are at the sea caves with Natsuya boating over the migration route.   
  
He hasn’t spoken to or even seen Haruka in a week, but his absence gave Makoto the opportunity to clear his head. His throat still swells at the memory of his confession, especially when he remembers how genuinely raw Haruka’s grief was. He truly hates himself down to the heat of his soul for the death of the Tachibanas.  
  
This week apart hardened Makoto’s disposition about what happened to them; their murder is still petrifying to think about, but his resolve has solidified. The reality of the situation is that yes, his grandparents scarified themselves to make sure Haruka was safe, but there were other Derketo at Trident’s Point they were protecting and they had the weight of the entire species on their shoulders. They did not die for one Derketo – they died for all of them. He wants Haruka to know that.  
  
He’s pulled from his thoughts when electricity surges down Hiyori’s amber tail – Makoto recognizes it as an emotional response or a sign of defensiveness. Mochizuki’s emerald fin pulses with worry and Makoto knows that a sudden charge as powerful as that never means anything good. Nagisa stiffens, eyes burning molten-pink in the dark as he stares out at the distant sea, and Kisumi follows his gaze with his lips curled over his fangs. _“Zagreus.”_  
  
Makoto anxiously pulls his feet back up onto the dock, tucking them close to himself. “Where?”  
  
“Not far away,” Kisumi says, already paddling his arms backwards toward the open water with Hiyori. The Briareos whispers into his cupped hands and when he opens them, fog spills across the surface of the water, billowing out in a protective cloud. Kisumi’s face hardens as he turns to Mochizuki with a rolling growl. “Swim to the sea caves, get Haruka and Nao. Aki and Nii are out there with that _thing,_ but I can’t sense them anymore.” He hisses through his teeth in distress. “Either they’re dead or the Zagreus is blocking my magic, _something is wrong_ – go now, Mochizuki!”  
  
Mochizuki is quick to dip underwater and the darkness of the sea swallows him whole. Hiyori pumps his arms through the waves, hungry for a fight, but Kisumi turns to address his fellow Siren. “Nagisa, you need to change forms and get on the dock with Makoto.”  
  
“Uh, like, no?” Nagisa frowns.   
  
Kisumi’s face strains. “You can’t fight the Zagreus if he gets passed us –”  
  
“I’m not leaving our prince’s mate defenseless,” Nagisa retorts with a firm shake of his head. “I know enough spells to protect myself, Kisu-chan. Don’t let him get away.”  
  
Kisumi is conflicted until Hiyori tugs his arm, then they dive into the waves.  
  
Nagisa does not break his stare with the horizon line, watching for any ripple of movement. Makoto’s heart pounds in the tense silence and he jerks when an engine rumbles to life. Nagisa whips around, scales bristling, and Makoto creeps up to the boat warehouse to peek around it. The line of black boats at the marina awaken one by one, lights flaring through the darkness. The shriek of jet skis cuts through the night, knifing through the water and looping in an arc toward the back of Trident’s Point.  
  
Makoto and Nagisa can only look on in horror – the Derketo does not have time to change forms and appear as a simple trespasser, nor does Makoto have time to run. He gives Nagisa an urgent, pleading look to swim away and the Derketo dips underwater just as the two jet skis turn the corner.  
  
Makoto hunkers down in the sea grass, holding his breath as the jet skis purr by. Their headlights cut through the grass and his chest sinks in dread before one person blurts, _“Shit, is that a –?!”_  
  
_“Shark!”_   The other man splutters, fist ripping over the throttle to lurch out of the way. _“The fuck, it keeps coming at me!”_  
  
Confusion swarms Makoto until the jet skis zip away, racing for the other boats. He crawls over the dock, peeking over the edge. No murky shape stands out in the black sea, yet the weight of a stare bears down on him. He whispers, “Nagisa? Nagisa! Where are you?”  
  
A shadow flutters through the water and Makoto exhales in relief, but his lungs seize in a vice grip as silver hair breaks the surface.  
  
This Derketo is frail, meek with a timid energy and bony shoulders. He’s a sickly pale like he was born in the deepest, darkest pit, never once being touched by the sun. His tiny frame crumbles with tremors – it’s taking every ounce of his courage to meet Makoto’s gaze.  
  
That makes his voice fall softly. “Hello.”  
  
The Derketo flinches like Makoto just struck him, and he gently shakes his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s all right, it’s just me here.”  
  
The Derketo hesitates, then swims closer. Oddly enough, his tail does not glow yet there is a pulsating, red hue to his aura. Up closer, it looks like some patches of skin have been _burned_ away; fire has peeled back layer by layer in the name of ruthless torture. His chest is a mess of surgical incisions, but his deepest scars are knifed into his soul, leaving him terrified of Makoto’s every move.  
  
Sympathy floods him. “Are you… you’re hurt.”  
  
The Derketo sinks lower in the water, mortified by his injuries. “Man.”  
  
Makoto’s insides run cold. “Man – humans did that to you?” Where are the other merfolk? Where is Nagisa? The thought of any of them being hurt like this is unbearable.  
  
The Derketo jerks around, glancing back at the ocean with a breathless sob. “They are after me.”  
  
“Man is after you?”  
  
“Man and – and –” He stares up at Makoto, utterly _begging_ for mercy. “Please, don’t let them hurt me. I will do _anything,_ I can’t keep –” He buries his face in his hands and Makoto sees that his claws have been torn from his fingers, leaving nothing but gouges of black blood. The Derketo hyperventilates, ribs straining through his skin with every frantic inhale. “I cannot keep running from them, I can’t _do it,_ I  –”  
  
“Hey, _hey.”_   Makoto shakes his head, smiling brokenly. “It’s okay now, you’re safe. That’s all over now.”  
  
He reaches out to the Derketo and he jerks away from his hand in shock, not trusting it. “You don’t even know me. How can you trust me so easily?”  
  
Makoto considers. “You haven’t really given me a reason not to. Not yet, at least.” He stretches his fingers out. “I need to have the chance to prove myself too, you know. So let me, please.” He smiles. “I’m Makoto, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”  
  
The Derketo’s gaze climbs from his hand to his face in awe. “Ai.”  
  
He reaches for Makoto’s hand –  
  
The night explodes in an earth-shattering flash of lightning, and electricity screams through the ocean with enough infuriated heat to leave the waves steaming. Haruka emerges from the water with the blueness of his irises spilling into the whites of his eyes, scales crawling over his skin, enveloping him in the ancient rage of the ocean itself, and he becomes a terrifying, beautiful monster. His growl makes the very sea quiver in fear and Makoto is no better.  
  
The water bows under Haruka’s command, submissively becoming a weapon. Waves spiral together and launch at Ai with ice shards hungry to charge through him, and Makoto’s blood sings with an ancient, divine presence. Heat weaves through him like it’s alive, overflowing empty parts of him.  
  
He throws his hand out in front of Ai and the water surges to a halt, time itself freezing in disbelief – the tidal wave hangs suspended before heat fades out of Makoto, and the wall of water tumbles down with a billowing sigh.  
  
A wave of sea mist rains over him and he pants in the aftermath, wavering as he crouches on the dock. Water flecks through his lashes and he’s overwhelmed by the taste of salt – feels it building in the back of his throat, pushing and pulling through his veins, trying to tug him out to sea.  
  
Rather stupidly, Makoto gropes his shoes to make sure there are still feet inside his socks and he touches his neck, thankfully meeting skin instead of the harp-string sensation of gills. He deflates and someone steadies a hand on his shoulder; he meets Rin’s dumbfounded expression, his phone falling slack in his grip. The ocean churns, nervously settling down, and Rin stares at the mess of overturned boats in horror. “I left you alone for _two minutes,”_ he starts weakly, flinching when a dock collapses.  
  
Makoto turns to the water and the rest of the Derketo stare at him with varying degrees of shock, Haruka wearing the most petrified look – the stunning turn of events seems to have shocked him back to his normal self, the way Makoto remembers him.  
  
He looks down at his hand, dazedly wiggling his fingers. _Galatos bring calm seas,_ he recalls Haruka saying. Is that how he was able to stop that tidal wave? Was it the fact that Haruka had him downright _fearful_ enough to wake up some weird, godly, emergency force that’s been sleeping inside of him?  
  
He does not have time to think about it because Kisumi’s breaking the water’s surface with an unholy snarl, fangs bared at Ai, but Nao’s firm grip keeps him from wrenching forward to tear the small Derketo apart. Kisumi hisses, “Zagreus.”  
  
Ai cowers closer to Makoto and he finally makes out the sharp outline of his lower body, which is not covered in scales but rather, the slick, grey texture of a shark’s fin. “You’re a…?”  
  
Nao fumes a sigh as he tries to rein Kisumi in. “Yes, Makoto, he’s a – _mi gínese malákas,_ Kisumi, stop acting like a bloodthirsty Siren – he’s a Zagreus.” Nao gives Ai an emotionless once over, though a hint of sympathy twitches across his features. “Half-shark; a child of Hades and Persephone. I doubt your mother would be proud of the trouble you’ve caused.”  
  
“He sent a shark after Aki,” Nii growls, holding her mate against her protectively.  
  
“He sent one after me, too,” Nagisa asks, trying not to look as terrified as the chase made him feel.  
  
“I had no choice,” Ai says by way of apology. Haruka bristles at his audacity and Ai cowers down, voice thickening with tears. “You do not let my kind join the migration; Zagreus are outcasts. I have never defied this – I’ve stayed out of your way yet you’ve chased me through these waters when I’ve done nothing to you.”  
  
“You bit a human at the beach,” Rin reminds him, skin flushed with impassioned rage. _“My boyfriend.”_  
  
Guilt swarms Ai. “I was in pain, I was afraid and I panicked, I’m sorry –”  
  
Haruka snaps, “What were you even doing, swimming that close to humans in broad daylight?”  
  
Ai shrinks away, frantically shaking his head as he fights anxiety. “I saw the other Derketo at the beach in their human forms –” His eyes flicker to Makoto nervously. “And they were with the prince’s mate. I tried to approach Makoto,” Ai admits in shameful apology. “He appeared kind and I hoped he could convince Poseidon’s son to accept me.” He bows his head at Makoto. “I am so very sorry, I did not mean to frighten you or challenge your mate.”  
  
Haruka bears his teeth like he’s about to say something awful and Makoto lifts his brows, silencing him.  
  
“But I was still lonely and afraid,” Ai continues. “I tried to approach you and I panicked when –” He glances at Kisumi, gaze tracing the faded scars across his chest. “When the sons of Aphrodite and Poseidon ambushed me, the man with the teal eyes got in the way. I did not mean to hurt anyone, I was just trying to defend myself, _please_ , just –”  
  
Makoto’s ear flexes at the snap of a twig and he seizes Rin’s wrist. They turn around to see an approaching man in kakis and a button-up – he shouldn’t be so intimidating, but Makoto’s seen him working on Blacksand’s satellites.  
  
The man has a lazy, confident stride but his smile is impatient. “Who you boys talkin’ to?”  
  
Makoto glances back at the water to see that the Derketo have vanished, nothing but ripples left of their presence. However, he knows the weight of Haruka’s gaze.    
  
When neither Makoto nor Rin answer the man, he scowls. “I didn’t think anyone was supposed to be back here at night.” Casually, he thumbs his belt, sliding his fingers around to his back. When he pulls out a handgun, Makoto lets out a breath like he was just punched in the gut and Rin blindly gropes for him as he staggers backward.  
  
The man’s voice is terrifyingly level. “I’ll ask you again: who the fuck were you talkin’ t—”  
  
A crowbar rears back and slams into his cheek, breaking his teeth and leaving him wavering for one sickening moment before he falls.  
  
Miho stands in his place, panting with the adrenaline rush of what she’s just done. Her frantic eyes meet Makoto’s and they both whip around as more men come hurtling down the hill. Miho fumes in annoyance, flinging her earrings into the grass as she rolls up her flannel sleeves. “Get out of here,” she tells Makoto and Rin, pitched with urgency. “Go, run!”  
  
Rin’s tugging Makoto into a backward stumble, but he breathes, “Why?” _Why are you protecting us?  
  
_ Miho’s features sink with nauseated shame before she turns her back on them. “I keep you safe, you keep the mermaids safe. Now, go!”  
  
Too many questions race through his mind to voice any one of them, and he and Rin take one last fleeting glance at the ocean before stumbling into the woods.  
  
They run blindly, ripping through branches in the dark as birds scream into the night. Moonlight flashes through the trees, disorienting them, and they throw a glance back to see a straggling man gaining on them. He reaches for Rin and just before fingers brush his hair, he crashes into something solid with a confused splutter.  
  
Sousuke picks the man up by the throat to slam him into a tree. His scowl is merely agitated, but the promise of pain rolls through his growl. “Don’t touch my boyfriend.”  
  
He wrenches the man into the tree, making him fall to the mud in a crumpled heap. Voices echo through the forest, getting closer, and Sousuke snaps, “We need to go, I’m parked on the hiking trail.”  
  
They follow him in a disoriented stupor and the moment they’re in the cab, Sousuke floors it, branches tearing across the windshield as the tires churn through the mud.  
  
When the Jeep lurches onto the main road, tension chokes Makoto. Rin’s wide eyes stare straight ahead at the highway before he swallows. “What were you doing out there, Sousuke?”  
  
Sousuke doesn’t even look at him. _“They_ were what you were keeping from me?” His voice is small with hurt and Makoto can scarcely believe it.  
  
Rin’s chest hunches on a gasp and Sousuke’s eyes are wide with sadness on the road. “All those nights you stayed up with me, promising me that I wasn’t crazy for thinking I saw something when I wrecked my shoulder – it’s because you _knew._ You knew I saw something.” He grits his jaw, hardening with betrayal. “You let me think I was insane instead of telling me.”  
  
Rin’s voice rises with desperation. “It wasn’t my secret to –”  
  
_“I almost died,”_ Sousuke yells, slamming a fist against the window, and Makoto flinches at the hair-thin crack. The Jeep swerves as Sousuke’s emotions overflow. “I almost died and you said _nothing.”_ His breath hitches and he sounds so lost. “How could you do this to me, Rin?”  
  
Rin’s face is stricken, mouth agape. Makoto nearly writhes in the awful silence – luckily, Sousuke’s soon pulling up to his dad’s empty driveway and Makoto stumbles out, wanting to thank Sousuke, wanting to say _anything,_ but he meets Rin’s gaze and the defeat in his eyes renders him speechless.  
  
Sousuke drives off and Makoto stares after the Jeep, heartstrings tangled with conflict.  
  
He stumbles toward his grandparents’ dock, stars watching overhead as he lies over the planks on his stomach. He urgently slaps a hand against the water, not knowing what else to do. “Haruka,” he whispers, longingly staring out at the endless ocean. “Haruka, please…”  
  
A blinding flash of lightning pulses across the channel and Haruka’s face breaks the surface. He leans up into Makoto’s hand, nuzzling his palm with delirious relief, and Makoto starts to cry. “Oh my god, they didn’t – you’re – are you okay?”  
  
_“Are you?”_  
  
Makoto smiles brokenly. “Yeah. Sousuke… Sousuke knows. He had followed Rin to the Point and he drove us out of there.”  
  
Haruka just sighs because it doesn’t look like he can’t get any more stressed. “The police are at Trident’s Point; that’s probably why your dad isn’t home. That woman who saved you and Rin was taken away in an ambulance.” He looks utterly ashamed. “Those men were… ruthless with her. I wanted to help but she kept staring at the water like she was making sure I wouldn’t do anything.”  
  
Makoto shakes his head in a daze. “Why did all those boats leave in the first place?”  
  
“They were headed for Natsuya,” Haruka growls, tattoos flaring in the night. “He was guarding the migration route near the sea caves. We think Blacksand snuck some sort of tracker on his boat – maybe a sonar that picks up our weird heat signatures. If one of us passed under his boat, Blacksand was probably notified.”  
  
“How’d they even know what kind of… ‘weird heat signatures’ to look for?”  
  
Haruka says, “Ai confirmed that the humans who tortured him were from Blacksand. They captured him during their first investigation of Iwatobi and he managed to escape, but he was too weak to leave Iwatobi’s waters.”  
  
Makoto’s blood runs cold. “What about Natsuya, is he okay? Was he hurt when they ambushed him?”  
  
Haruka glances back at the ocean, face softening in awe even as his voice lowers with a grave darkness. “There is no force more powerful in the sea than a Siren who falls in love. Blacksand cornered Natsuya’s boat, pulled a gun on him –” Haruka hesitates, meeting Makoto’s innocent eyes with severity. “You have to understand that for Sirens, guilt and killing are two separate things, especially when their mate is threatened.”  
  
Nervously, Makoto mulls over his words and rephrases the question. “Is Nao okay?”  
  
“Yes.” Haruka grimaces. “Well, he’s a little possessive and territorial of Natsuya at the moment but that’s understandable. It wouldn’t be safe to bother them for the next few hours.”  
  
Makoto almost doesn’t have it in him to ask this question. “The boats that cornered Natsuya…”  
  
Haruka treads carefully. “They won’t be a problem anymore.”  
  
So Nao killed them; probably left their bodies for the sharks. Makoto shoves his conscience into his pocket and clears his throat. “And what about Nereids? Do they always try to electrocute someone when a stranger talks to their mate?”  
  
Haruka glances away with a fuming blush of embarrassment and frustration. His nostrils flare as he works his arms to stay upright in the water, trying to buy himself time for an explanation. “There are thing about my culture I didn’t tell you,” he confesses. “Things I should have.”  
  
“Oh, _really?”_  
  
Haruka pinches the bridge of his nose, but nobody in the world is more exasperated than Makoto Tachibana in this moment. “You _scared_ me.” He represses a shudder as he remembers Haruka’s consciousness, _his humanity,_ leaving him so primitively stripped down to nothing more than a bolt of lightning. “You almost killed Ai and I had to get all magic and crazy and weird just to stop you!” That didn’t make any sense, but the regret in Haruka’s gaze seems to mean he got the message. “I’ve been staying at Trident’s Point every night to help your kind. What makes Ai so different that you had to go and –”  
  
“He’s a _Zagreus –”_  
  
“And I’m human, Haruka!” He fights a new wave of tears, nearly defeated. “I’m more different to you than he will ever be, so why can’t you all accept him like you’ve accepted me? _Why?_ Why can’t you just –”  
  
“He’s the son of Hades and the rest of us are under Poseidon’s rule,” Haruka fumes, but his voice isn’t as strong as he thought it would be. Maybe because he’s finally realized how ridiculous this charade is. “They’ve had feuds since the beginning of time, Makoto, it’s not something I can just stop. The prejudices aren’t something I can just _change.”_  
  
“You can’t or you won’t?”  
  
Haruka’s jaw tightens, but his brows go high and crease with pleading.  
  
Makoto’s voice softens. “Humans are prejudiced, too – for any reason we want to be, really. Why do you think I haven’t come out to my parents? There are people who would _hurt me_ if I ever told them I’m gay, Haruka.” He shakes his head in defiance. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop loving you.”  
  
Makoto reaches down to cup Haruka’s face, thumb brushing the scales glittering across his cheekbone. “You know what the right thing to do is.”  
  
Emotions chase across Haruka’s features before he gives in to Makoto’s touch with a sigh. “I’ll protect Ai,” the Derketo says.

* * *

Makoto goes to Trident’s Point the next morning, walking through a maze of police cars and news vans with too much of a sense of normalcy. He immediately goes to the marina, where Blacksand’s dock is blocked off by detectives. The coast guard’s tugboats haul the black vessels away and Makoto catches sight of his father getting interviewed by a police officer, his face haggard until he notices Makoto.  
  
He grunts when his dad locks him in a fierce embrace. “I should have listened to you,” he whispers, closing his eyes with grief. “I should have listened to Mom. God, Mako, I’m sorry.”  
  
Makoto hugs him, leaning back to smile in grim understanding. “Are they gone for good?”  
  
His dad nods sternly. “This situation re-opened dozens of cases on Blacksand. The things they’ve done to animals… things they’ve done to people –” He puts his hand on his hips, bowing his head. “They won’t be investigating _anywhere_ for the time being.” He squeezes Makoto’s shoulder, frowning in confusion. “You got a shift today? We stayed closed today because of all the, ah, commotion.”  
  
“Oh, um – no.” He hesitates. “No, I just wanted to see how things were going here.” That’s not entirely a lie, but Haruka texted him asking him to stop by the gift shop.  
  
“Well, I should be done with the police soon. We’ll get a bite to eat on the way home, all right? Maybe we can go fishing tomorrow on your day off or something.”  
  
Makoto beams. “I’d love that.”

* * *

He climbs the steps to the main deck and heads for the gift shop, unnerved by the quiet of Trident’s Point; he misses the bustle of conversation and the laughter of his coworkers.  
  
Haruka rounds the corner, magnetized to his presence, and his body strains to approach Makoto yet he hesitates. Makoto takes the first step forward with a tired smile and hugs Haruka’s tiny waist, their foreheads resting together to relish in one another. He breathes in Haruka’s warmth, pecking his lips before taking them in a slower, savoring clutch of his own. He eases Haruka against the wall, needing the intimate press of his body, and there’s no hesitation in sighing, humming, as their tongues explore each other’s mouths. Makoto wants nothing more than to hide from the world with Haruka, tucked away in a bed with an endless amount of time to learn and love each other.  
  
Haruka clenches his biceps and whispers, “I’m guessing by the way that you’re trying to find my tonsils –” Makoto chuckles roughly. “— that you aren’t still mad at me.”  
  
“No, I’m not,” Makoto whispers back, peppering softer kisses against his neck and swaying their bodies closer together. “But my tolerance for crazy might be a bit low today.” He smirks sheepishly.  
  
Haruka snorts. “Same.” He tucks his head under Makoto’s chin for a relishing moment. “Come on, the others are inside.”  
  
He guides Makoto into the gift shop, the doorbell chiming solemnly. The windows don’t offer much natural light since a storm is tumbling in, but the eyes of each Derketo glow hauntingly in a searing rainbow of pulsing color.  
  
Nao’s gaze burns the brightest. He’s leaning against Natsuya as the human sits on a stool behind the counter, their arms pressed tightly together, and Makoto pretends he doesn’t notice the blood under the Derketo’s nails. Nao’s green irises smolder like a forest fire and the whites of his eyes are bloodshot, but his vessels are neon yellow – he must still be coming down from the rage of almost losing Natsuya, though his severe expression softens when Makoto comes in.  
  
Hiyori smirks in greeting and Mochizuki looks relieved to see him. Aki and Nii greet him quietly and Nagisa even hugs him, while Kisumi’s nod is stiff as he keeps his gaze on Ai. The Zagreus hunches in the corner, trying not to writhe under everyone’s stares. He’s dressed in regular clothes, a pastel outfit that look to be Nagisa’s size. Ai wobbles a smile at Makoto, to which he offers up a gentle nod.  
  
He startles at Nao’s voice. “How are you, Makoto?”  
  
He takes a shuddering breath and Haruka’s thumb strokes his hand. “Um, I guess I’m a little better since I took a nap.”  
  
Nao gives him a critical once over with those terrifying eyes. “No, I mean how are you doing since…” He wiggles his fingers and electricity crackles between them.  
  
He blushes, glancing down at his hand to mirror the action. Nothing happens, thankfully. “Ah, I guess my hands are a bit tingly? Like they’re asleep and I can’t really wake them up?”  
  
Mochizuki pales, seizing Hiyori’s arm. “What if he had a stroke?”  
  
“Idiot,” the Briareos scoffs, wrenching away. “I think we’d know by now if he had a stroke.”  
  
Makoto withers an embarrassed laugh. “I think I’m okay, really!”  
  
The Sirens glance amongst themselves. “He should be fine,” Nagisa mumbles. “He shouldn’t be capable of doing anything like he did last night unless he gets really scared.”  
  
“But it’s not that hard to scare me,” Makoto grumbles.  
  
Haruka squeezes his hand. “I won’t let anything else happen to you.”  
  
His heart warms, butterflies dancing in his stomach. The door cracks open and Rin steps in hesitantly, shadowed by Sousuke’s towering figure behind him. Makoto stiffens in surprise, dumbfounded as the couple settles a distance apart against the wall, refusing to look at one another. Rin’s arms cross too tightly over his chest, clothes wrinkled, messy hair tied back, body haggard from no sleep; Sousuke appears in a similar state of exhaustion, but his stance is more defensive, bristled.  
  
Nobody but Makoto looks surprised to see him, so he assumes they all knew Sousuke was coming along. Kisumi smiles sadly, not bothering to dim the disturbing brightness of his gaze. “Hey, Sousuke.”  
  
Sousuke eyes him warily. “Sup.”   
  
“Rin told you everything?”  
  
“… he told me enough for a lot of shit to finally make sense. I knew there was a reason why I felt like I’d smoked a blunt when you sang at karaoke night.”  
  
“But you _had_ smoked a blunt that night,” Rin mumbles, rubbing his eyes sleepily.  
  
“Yeah, but this was _different,”_ he insists. Sousuke regards the others with varying degrees of astonishment. “You too, Tachibana?”  
  
“No.” He lifts his and Haruka’s joined hands. “We got together before I found out.”  
  
Sousuke regards them in silence for a full minute. “So it’s true, then? You’re all…” He makes an odd gesture, swimming his hand through the air like a lack-luster fin. “And how do you even _make_ a pair of legs?”   
  
“We can’t stay in these forms forever,” Nagisa laughs, wiggling his toes in his flip flops. “We need to periodically go back to the ocean.”  
  
“What, or you’ll dry up like a sponge or something?”  
  
Rin scoffs at Sousuke’s audacity but Kisumi’s head tips in consideration. “Well, that’s not _exactly_ wrong.”  
  
At Rin and Sousuke’s disbelief, Haruka shows them his arm, tendons flexing with the motion. “Our bones are like coral. They can dry up; they need water to thrive. The ocean is our home and we know this on a biological level.”  
  
Aki nods with a grim smile. “The sea is a jealous mother; she wants her children with her.”  
  
Sousuke shakes his head as if to force this crazy information out of his system. He notices Ai and realization dawns on his face. The Zagreus withers, bracing himself for a verbal lashing, but Sousuke’s voice softens. “You bit me?”  
  
His eyes flutter open in surprise and he nods hesitantly. “Sorry,” he whispers, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. The Zagreus gasps in a brilliant moment of inspiration and thrusts his arm at Sousuke. “You can bite me back if it will suffice!”  
  
“Fuck,” Sousuke startles, wrenching back. “No, that’s –” He clears his throat, smoothing his clothes out to compose himself. “Uh, no thanks. We’re good.”    
  
He takes one last look at everyone and lets out an overwhelmed breath, scrubbing his face, stubble rasping. “All right, well.” He tosses his car keys at Rin and heads for the exit. “I’m gonna go get shit-faced.”  
  
Rin frowns after him. “It’s 9 a.m.”  
  
“Yep,” Sousuke says, popping his lips on the word before slamming the door closed.

* * *

Indeed, he gets shit-faced – utterly, delightfully _toasted_ – and Sousuke falls into a vodka-induced sleep, slumbering into the night. He dreams about ocean waves – he hears them across the distance between his house and the beach, feels the rhythmic tug in his own chest. He wakes with a start, dragging his feet to the kitchen to swallow a handful of pain pills, and his shoulder leaves him in a restless state of pain.  
  
Sousuke glances into Gou’s bedroom, making sure her face is slack instead of twisted around nightmares of losing her father. He then reaches the bedroom he shared with Rin before his secret was found out and Sousuke started taking to the couch.  
  
Technically, it’s only been a few days, but they’ve shared a bed since they were children. As upset as Sousuke is, he misses the feeling of Rin’s arms and legs viced around him as they sleep; he doesn’t like waking up with the blankets not snatched away, as annoying as that once was.  
  
Sousuke glides Rin’s hair away from his face, tucking the strands behind his ear, fingers slipping down his parted lips. Rin snuggles closer to the edge of the bed, huddling toward Sousuke’s warmth and making his heart clench.   
  
Maybe Sousuke was too hard on him. It’s not like he’d ever break up with Rin, even for a secret as big as the Derketo – even if he _should_ leave, he never would. Sousuke would have definitely told Rin first if their roles had been reversed, but they’re still different people, as close as they are.  
  
The hurt is still fresh, yet he finds himself lying on his regular side of the bed. He doesn’t reach for Rin, but he listens to him breathe and takes comfort in the smell of his cherry blossom shampoo, the way he sighs Sousuke’s name sometimes – not like he’s in the throes of a heated dream but gently, reverently, as if he’s saying a prayer.  
  
Sousuke dozes off and lurches awake a few hours later, choking on the taste of salt. It fizzles across his tongue, washing down his throat like sea foam. He surges upright, swallowing over and over as something rumbles deep in his core, making his limbs shake from the inside out. Eventually, he calms down, but an odd tremor flutters over his stomach, down his legs.  
  
A hand cups the back of his damp neck and Rin’s voice is rough with sleep. “You okay?”  
  
Sousuke tenses – he hadn’t wanted to get caught in bed beside him. “Fine.” He gets up to look out the window and watches the first pulses of sunlight reach over the horizon line, and a desperate need burning to life.  
  
He reaches into the dresser, quickly changing into his wetsuit as Rin stares on. “I’m going surfing,” Sousuke says, stilling at the doorway with an expectant pause. “You coming or what?”  
  
Rin cranes back. Then he untangles himself from the sheets and looks through the laundry for his wetsuit.

* * *

Catching a wave is as satisfying as ever – even a wipeout is invigorating as the ocean swallows him whole. After a time, they lay on their backs on their boards to watch the stars fade away, and out here in the open water, away from the rest of the world in their own endless realm of blue, Sousuke scoffs, “Does that shit not scare you?”  
  
Rin doesn’t need any clarification. He thinks, brushing their calves together, sloshing water. “The Derketo… who they are and what they can do…” His harsh laugh is almost hysterical, bursting from his chest like he’s kept it inside for years. “Fuck yeah, it scares me shitless sometimes.”  
  
“Then why help them?”  
  
Rin shakes his head at the sky. “They give me hope.” His chest expands on a careful breath. “But I’d rather have you than them. If that’s what you want.” His voice hollows with emotion. “Cause I’ll always choose you.”  
  
Sousuke sits up and Rin does the same, fumbling in a stupor, needing him to say something, anything. Sousuke’s eyes dart to take in every detail of him, how his face is round but his features are sharp, and Sousuke smiles heavily with adoration. “And what would we do, if I wanted you to leave all this behind and I tried to keep you to myself?”  
  
Rin chews his lip around a thoughtful grin, dragging his hair into a tie and driving Sousuke crazy. “We could run away like we talked about when we were kids.”  
  
“Yeah? Where would we go?”  
  
“You’ve always wanted to surf in Fiji.”  
  
“Mmm, true,” Sousuke concedes, locking their ankles together to drag his board closer. “Where else should we go?”  
  
Rin leans closer, bracing a hand on Sousuke’s thigh and visibly struggling to resist the magnetizing pull of his lips. “We’d go to Australia,” Rin whispers in that wide-eyed way that makes him look so young, so wild. “And get married.” He perks a grin. “Then we’d have lots of bomb fuckin’ beach sex.”    
  
“God, I love you,” Sousuke groans in awe, heart ready to melt. He thumbs Rin’s lips, their skin glistening with sea mist as heat flares over the horizon and the sun rises against their profiles. “I’m marrying you when we turn eighteen no matter what,” Sousuke whispers, a breath away from the touch of a kiss. “No matter where we are.” His chuckle is exasperated. “No matter how many damn mermaids there are in the whole wide world.”  
  
He smothers Rin’s laugh with a kiss as the warmth of the sunrise pours over them like rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to donguris [tumblr](http://donguris.tumblr.com/post/163897409523/surfer-boyfriends-rin-sousuke-out-at-dawnfrom) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/Donguriiiis) for the fanart of surfer!sourin. you are such a lovely talent and an awesome person, thank you so much!
> 
> translations:  
>  _Nao fumes a sigh as he tries to rein Kisumi in. “Yes, Makoto, he’s a – **mi gínese malákas** , Kisumi, stop acting like a bloodthirsty Siren." | **"Don't be an asshole, Kisumi**_.
> 
> haruka's quote:  
>  _"Falling in love with a god_  
>  is not a death sentence.  
> The story is only a tragedy  
> if the god loves you back."  
> \- [nathanielorion](http://nathanielorion.tumblr.com/)
> 
> up next: makoto and haruka grow closer. natsuya and nao offer advice. kisumi and nagisa make bets.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> greetings, fam. missed y'all. :)
> 
> hugs and flowers to row-chan [(twitter](https://twitter.com/_RowChan) | [tumblr)](https://row-chan.tumblr.com/post/170659443947/surfing-ssk-from-coral-and-bone-by) for [ this ](http://macbetha.tumblr.com/post/170696824020/row-chan-surfing-ssk-from-coral-and) hothothothothot depiction of surfersuke. like wow, much heart eyes. thank you so much!
> 
> rating has been bumped up to explicit for this chapter. have fun. 
> 
> this chapter hasn't been beta read and i'm very tired, so please excuse any mistakes if i missed them. this is currently my favorite chapter. enjoy!

* * *

 Makoto never dared to give his _first time_ too much thought; he always had a gut feeling that his expectations were too high even though he’s just now coming to terms with his sexuality. _That_ blinding enlightenment, added with neglected teenage hormones, equals an embarrassing amount of wet dreams featuring the local sea prince, who has Makoto wrapped around his finger in _at least_ nine different ways.  
  
Thinking about being with Haruka like that – it’s dizzying and sensational. Kissing Haruka is a rightness so true that the rest of the world feels like a lie. He finally understands why Natsuya kisses Nao in public at the docks so much – it’s not because they’re oblivious to people’s stares, it’s because they’re in love and it’s as simple as that. Makoto could be considered careless in the way he’s started tonguing Haruka down when they part ways after their lunch breaks, but he just can’t find it in him to really care what anyone thinks of him anymore.  
  
Previously, before he came to Iwatobi for the summer, he feared the world’s disapproval, but now that fear has hardened into something so unapologetic that he barely recognizes himself anymore – yet he likes this change, this evolving growth.  
  
But he isn’t always so unwavering. Makoto found acceptance with his friends at Trident’s Point, but at night, all alone in his bed, he stares up at the ceiling and wonders about his family’s judgements. Would they still love him if they knew he was gay, or would they only accept it _because_ they love him?  
  
Often, his mind drifts to his grandparents. They cared for him unconditionally as a child, but would they be proud of what kind of man he’s becoming? He’d like to think so, and not just because he’s finishing their life’s work by helping the Derketo – it’s because he carries their lessons with him every day. They would have never let him disgrace anyone for being different, so he highly doubts they would judge him. Plus, they married different species for God’s sake.  
  
That realization leads Makoto to wonder about the norms of mates in Derketo society. He isn’t sure who to ask about it – going to Haruka is one thousand percent out of the question, since they’d both stammer themselves into a fainting spell – Nagisa and Kisumi are bad choices. Makoto still doesn’t know Hiyori very well, and asking Mochizuki anything on the topic of romance is, well, never going to happen. Nii still intimidates Makoto a little and she’s always with Aki, so he could never approach her alone. He just needs some reassurance and guidance in this situation.  
  
Then one inspiring morning, Asahi accidently calls Natsuya “Dad,” and Makoto finds his answer.  
  
He waits until the end of the day to strike, when Natsuya is finishing up his shift by going over some paperwork in his tiny shed of an office. Makoto hesitantly steps inside, nose tickling with dust in the cramped heat, and he finds Natsuya hunched over a sorry-looking desk as he scribbles at some documents. His curls are stuffed under a backwards cap, skin flushed from a brutal day in the sun, and his tired eyes meet Makoto’s nervous gaze. “Oh, Mako. Need something?”  
  
He feels bad for holding Natsuya up when he’s clearly ready to pass out on the nearest flat surface. Makoto’s gone over this question at least a hundred times in his head, but as soon as Natsuya pins him with a stare, his voice dies.  
  
Natsuya’s brows furrow and he sits up straighter, somehow sensing the immensity of what’s going on. He waits for Makoto to find the words and when he can’t, Natsuya nods to the chair across from his desk. Makoto deflates as he flops down on it.  
  
The man patiently gets back to his paperwork as Makoto wrings his hands together and blurts, “Uh. I was just – just wondering about… you know, if you h-had any idea about Derketo…”  
  
Natsuya’s eyes flash green, or at least Makoto thinks they do. He stammers, “Ah, I just happened to notice that most of them – well, _all_ of the merpeople I’ve met are, um. Kind of gay.”  
  
Natsuya blinks.  
  
Nausea rolls through Makoto. “I was just wondering if that’s normal for them. As a species.”  
  
Natsuya blinks slower this time, brows pinching together. “The Derketo don’t really have a word for ‘gay,’ you know.”  
  
Makoto withers a laugh that’s horribly amplified in the tight space. “Yeah, I figured, but…” He swallows thickly, eyes darting, and Natsuya’s face softens in understanding.  
  
He leans back in his chair to give Makoto his full attention and thumps his pen thoughtfully. “Well,” he drawls like a question since he probably wasn’t expecting to get slammed with such a curve ball at the end of the day. “Even if I’m pretty much _soul-bound_ to one of them, I can’t really speak for the Derketo, Mako. But from what Nao’s told me, I don’t think they have any prejudices against males being with males or females with females.”  
  
Makoto frowns with an insistent question prickling up his throat. Natsuya reads his expression and his pen slips out of his numb grip, clattering to the floor. “Oh, you mean – _oh._ You mean how do they –” He coughs a laugh, glancing around for a bottle of liquor to magically appear. “Well, that’s a little different.”  
  
Makoto’s ready to start crying, absolutely mortified, but Natsuya chuckles. “Don’t feel bad, I understand the curiosity.” He sighs wistfully at the ceiling. “It’s all I could think about when I first met Nao.”  
  
“Right,” Makoto accidently shouts.  
  
Natsuya steeples his fingers. “If Haruka’s in his human form, then _being with him_ will be the same as being with any other guy.”   
_  
The same???_ Makoto is _this close_ to screaming his frustration. He doesn’t even have experience with “the same” gay sex for his own species! He’s a hopeless mess any way this goes and it shows on his face.  
  
Natsuya tucks his fingers under his overall straps, tipping his head. “Maybe Nao can answer some questions for you.”  
  
Makoto wants to slide to the floor – into the very core of the earth. “Ah. No? Please.”  
  
This jerk’s voice is nearly _stern._ “I wish I would have had someone to ask when I met Nao.”  
  
“I’m not trying to ask how it goes when you –” His exhale hisses through his teeth. “Mix forms… like that.”  
  
Natsuya leans over the desk and folds his hands under his chin to pin Makoto with a stare. “You’ve never thought about it?”  
  
“No,” Makoto grits, writhing under Natsuya’s gaze.  
  
“Not once?”  
_  
“Oh my God,”_ he groans, launching out of his chair and marching toward the door to go drown himself. “I am not asking Nao about any of these things!”  
  
Natsuya beams. “You don’t have to! He already knows.”  
  
“How –” Makoto’s voice wheezes away as Natsuya’s eyes blink green, and he may or may not throw himself into a fit of dramatics by jamming his back against the wall. _“What the –”  
_  
“Telepathy is part of bonding; he can see everything I see and vise versa.” His serene smile doesn’t sit on his face right. “Sorry, we can’t really control it.”  
  
Makoto huffs. “Right.” Miserably, he heads for the gift shop.

* * *

Since it’s nearing closing time, the gift shop is empty as the sunset pours through the windows. Nao is perched the counter as usual, sliding beads onto a wire with deft grace and a smile of greeting. Makoto grumbles, “Ease-dropping isn’t very nice.”  
  
“Sorry,” Nao says genuinely. “Natsuya got nervous about your questions and wanted to make sure he said the right things, so he called for my help.”  
  
Makoto’s crossed arms fall slack and with a knowing look, Nao inclines his head to the seat next to him. “You’re not the first person, human or Derketo, to be afraid of these sorts of things. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”  
  
He blushes and shuffles over to sit beside Nao, who patiently continues with his beading. Though the silence is comforting, Makoto fumbles for the right words. “I, um – don’t really know what to ask.”  
  
“You don’t have to ask anything,” Nao breezes, sliding a jade orb down the wire. “I’ll talk and you may interject as you feel the urge to.” He crosses his legs, flexing a dainty ankle as he thinks. “First and foremost, Derketo rarely have prejudices against males with males or females with females. Plenty of gods laid with humans of their same sex.” Nao snorts. “Haruka’s father included.”  
  
“Do gods do it too, then? Kisumi said he has two mothers.” Aphrodite and Calypso, he remembers.  
  
Nao nods. “Yes, they do it, too. I only have one parent, but she prefers women.” He chuckles at Makoto’s curious blink. “My mother is Hecate, goddess of the moon and witchcraft. She brought me to life during an eclipse. Said I was destined for a lover like the sun.” He smiles fondly as he ties off the wire. “The residences of Mount Olympus do not always share our view on same-sex mates, most likely because the ancient civilization that praised them was not exactly measured in equal rights.” His smile tightens grimly. “If a goddess tries to get away with a fraction of what the gods do – well, you can imagine who receives punishment and which one is praised.”  
  
“But shouldn’t those sorts of laws… change?”  
  
“Immortals don’t change,” Nao sighs. “But I suppose we’d all be set in our ways if we were left alone with our thoughts for mellinia. But at long last, many goddesses had enough of the cruel treatment; they weren’t powerful enough to overthrow Zeus, so instead they turned into each others’ arms. For that reason, we as Derketo are a very matriarchal society – nearly all of us were born from the linage of a goddess. That’s what makes the Iwatobi migration so important: we come together as a species to assure that mothers are protected and comfortable while having their babies.” He glances at Makoto and smirks at his blush. “Only our females can get pregnant, Makoto, that’s nothing for you and Haruka to worry about.”  
  
He’s restless with embarrassment. “So there shouldn’t be any prejudices against a male Derketo being with a male human, right?”  
  
Nao considers a moment too long, his beading becoming subdued. “Being with a human in general is extremely looked down upon in our culture.” He smiles sadly at Makoto. “But you have Derketo ancestry from your grandmother, so that’s nothing for you to worry about.”  
  
Makoto doesn’t like seeing the eldest Derketo look so grim. “The others don’t seem judgmental of you and Natsuya at all, though.”  
  
Nao’s laugh is cutting. “Well, that’s partly because the others Sirens have also fell for humans.” He considers Makoto’s point for a minute. “Working our way into human society has made us more tolerant to differences, I believe. It’s been a healthy change.” He shakes his head to get back on track. “But anyway, it’s wonderful that you’re trying to learn about Haruka’s culture and how we approach these sorts of things, however, you cannot let it hinder how you feel; all you need to worry about is your mate.” His voice warms, eyes crinkling with sweeter memories. “They’re all that matters.”  
  
Makoto bows his head. “I guess I’ve just been trying to find ways to get as much approval as possible when it comes to him.”  
  
Nao stills, eyes blinking wider in realization. “Your family doesn’t know you’re gay, do they?”  
  
Makoto parts his lips before they firm into a line and he shakes his head.  
  
Nao’s expression floods with broken-hearted understanding. He puts away his beadwork to fully face Makoto, giving him as much attention and reassurance as he can. “You know you don’t have to tell them if you aren’t ready. You never do if you don’t want to; this is your life. You are allowed to have your secrets.”  
  
Makoto tightens his fingers together so his hands will stop shaking. “I feel like it makes me look like I’m ashamed if I don’t tell them.”  
  
“But you aren’t ashamed,” Nao says. “You’re scared. There’s a very big difference. Your love for Haruka is valid no matter who you tell or not, but… I understand that you want to share that love with the rest of the world. Really, I do.” He gives Makoto’s trembling hand a firm squeeze. “But please know that no matter what happens, you have a family that loves you at Trident’s Point.”

* * *

That night, Makoto’s father has a date. It’s completely out of the blue, yet it’s a wonderful surprise – he hasn’t been out with anyone since the divorce and Makoto is sure that those seven lonely years took a toll on his heart, yet he looks scared shitless. Makoto does what he can to help by ironing a button-up for him, then finds him some nicer shoes to wear in his grandfather’s closet. After his dad is clean-shaven and sitting on the back porch with a comforting cup of tea, he looks ten times better.  
  
He and Makoto sit on the porch swing as night falls and the ocean breeze lulls through the tall grass, singing through the wind chimes to create a peaceful ambiance. It’s nice to just talk with his father, nagging about certain regulars at Trident’s Point and laughing about how exasperating the stubborn old fishermen at the marina can be.  
  
Makoto says, “So where did you meet this lady?”  
  
His dad scrubs at his blushing cheeks, grinning. “She works at the oyster bar downtown. Real stubborn, works hard. I’m picking her up at eight for a movie.”  
  
“That sounds nice,” Makoto praises.  
  
His dad snorts, flexing his foot to stretch out his loafers. “Sounds generic.” He stretches his legs, curiously looking Makoto over. “What about you? There any girls back home at school you were interested in?”  
  
Makoto’s ears ring; his very blood stops moving. His throat constricts on the words he wants to say and all he can get out is a breathless, “No, not really.”  
  
“Oh. Well, what about at the Point? Aki is about your age and you two seem to get along well.”  
  
Nausea wrenches through him. “Dad, _no,_ she – no, her and Nii are…”  
  
His dad frowns before his whole face freezes. “You mean they’re…? Oh.” He stiffens. “I thought they were just good friends.”  
  
Makoto gnaws at the inside of his cheek. Hard.  
  
His dad pats him on the back. “Well, I’m sure a nice girl will show up soon.”  
  
His heart sinks in ice, his soul torn at a crossroad. He could respond to his father with indifferent silence and leave the conversation at that. They could continue to reconstruct their relationship without Makoto causing a sickening ripple in the foundation and making it all crumble down, impossible to rebuild.  
  
But he’s tired in ways that he shouldn’t be when he’s this young. If he lets the acidic lie eat away at his heart any longer, what will be left of it to give to Haruka? What would be left of _himself?_  
  
Makoto breathes in the sweet heat of forest humidity, drinking up every shade of ocean blue and the white glitter of stars like it’s the last time he will ever see it. “I already found someone.”  
  
He doesn’t turn away from the sea but feels surprise race off his father. “You have? At Trident’s Point?”  
  
Makoto’s throat constricts. He nods.  
  
His father sounds so excited as he leans forward. “Who is she?”  
  
His insides slosh, swell, twist. “It’s not a girl.”  
  
The silence is confused – dumbfounded. Makoto finally turns to face him and gives him a flat, grim look.  
  
Dad pales. He pales and _stares_ and looks at Makoto the way he probably looked at Haruka the first time he used magic – like this isn’t believable, this isn’t real, how is this happening?  
  
But Makoto holds his gaze even with his heart beating so hard that his collarbones ache with it. Seagulls caw in the silence and the ocean churns as it waits with Makoto.  
  
Eventually, Dad mumbles, “Who is it?”  
  
“Haruka.” Just saying his name out loud brings him comfort.  
  
Dad’s face scrunches. “Really?” Makoto arches a brow and he blushes, fumbling, “He just, uh. Didn’t really look like the type. Neither did you, really.”  
  
Makoto’s hit with the urge to blurt _I’m sorry,_ but he’s not sorry, and he tightens his lips together in determination.  
  
Dad rakes a hand through his hair, scrubbing at it raggedly. “How long have you known that you like…” His voice trails off; he doesn’t sound lost to rage, but he is winded with shock.  
  
“A few years? Maybe in middle school I started, um – noticing… things. Mom doesn’t know.”  
  
Dad’s chest hollows on a gasp. “You haven’t told anyone, Mako?”  
  
He locks his ankles together, grounding himself in the pressure. “Most people at the Point know about me and Haruka. They’ve been really accepting. But I never dared to tell Mom about it.”  
  
Dad is stricken with hurt. “Why wouldn’t tell us?”  
  
Makoto’s laugh comes out sharp with bitter exasperation and Dad turns away. His jaw hardens with shame. “You shouldn’t be scared of us. Even if we aren’t together any more, you – you should know that we still love you, Mako –”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you’d understand.”  
  
Dad sighs. “Yeah, I get that. I get why you’d think that.” He thinks for a few more minutes, then shakes his head with a shrug. “Well. This is uh, definitely unexpected.” He smiles at him fondly. “My boy knows how to throw a curve ball, don’t you?”  
  
Makoto doesn’t smile back – can’t remember how to even breathe, but he flinches when his dad puts a hand on his shoulder and his eyes squeeze shut in terror. A sob catches in Makoto’s throat and Dad’s voice breaks. “Mako…”  
  
He opens his eyes and tears scatter down his face. His dad brushes them away with a rough thumb, cradling his cheek. “You’re my _son,”_ he whispers, putting so much love into the word that Makoto might never stop crying. “You’re my son forever. Me and your mom…” He takes a ragged breath, taking off his glasses to smear at his eyes. “I know the divorce made your life hell, but when you’re part of that marriage and you can’t save it –” He shakes his head hopelessly. “I don’t want you to ever go through that kind of pain. I just want you to be happy and if Haruka… if Haruka really makes you happy, then –”  
  
“He does,” Makoto lurches, seizing his dad’s forearm earnestly. “He makes me so happy, Dad.”  
  
He studies Makoto, glancing down to think for a moment. He nods slowly. “Well. I guess… I guess that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”  
  
“You’re not mad?”  
  
“I’m surprised,” Dad snorts. “But no, I’m not at mad you.” He glances at his watch with an apologetic wince. “Ah, will you be okay if I go ahead and head out? Or do you want me to stay and –”  
  
“No, I’m okay.” Makoto stands up with him, fingers wiggling in his pockets like wild. “I’m fine. Go have lots of fun.”  
  
Dad hesitates. “You sure? I can, uh, just stay and talk if you need to.”  
  
Makoto beams. “Really, I feel great.”  
  
He searches his face then nods, satisfied. “Okay.” He fishes his keys out of his pocket and heads for the door, then he pauses. He turns back to give Makoto a gruff, adorably-awkward embrace but his voice is rent with emotion. “I love you, Mako.”  
  
His heart is fit to burst. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Makoto heads to work on foot since his father didn’t come home last night and he has no other means of transportation to get to Trident’s Point. He doesn’t mind all that much, basking in the damp coolness of fading darkness, the morning blushing with the dawn. He walks along the coastline and notices Kazuki and Uozumi’s neon surfboards slashing through the distant waves, Uozumi’s silver Wrangler parked by the boardwalk.  
  
Makoto shares his breakfast with a stray cat who follows him for pinches of his cereal bar. Asahi and Momotarou shout greetings as they weave around him on their longboards, wheels jarring over the bumpy road. Rei waves when he passes by in his father’s Mercedes and Gou flashes Makoto a peace sign from the passenger’s side of Seijuro’s Jeep, which is a painfully bright shade of Orange Crush. Makoto comes to the conclusion that all of the surfers are in competition to have the most souped-up Jeep until Nakagawa pedals by on his sister’s rickety bicycle, looking like death warmed over as he scowls into his coffee thermos.  
  
Makoto tries to hide the laugh from his voice when he calls, “Good morning, Nakagawa!”  
  
The boy startles, stabilizing the bike with his free hand before his thermos can go flying into the bushes. “Morning, Mako,” he yawns, making an effort to nod politely.  
  
Rap music echoes down the road, jarring the very air as a blindingly white Jeep pulls up beside them. Toro sticks his head out the driver’s window with a shit-eating grin, yelling over his blaring speakers. “Yo, Tachibana! Heya, Naka, your bike is _too cute~”  
_  
“It’s too early for your shit, Toro,” Nakagawa snaps, making a move to toss his coffee all over the pristine Wrangler.  
  
Toro lurches the vehicle forward with a cackle and turns his music down. “When’s your ride gettin’ out of the shop?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Nakagawa grumbles, drinking from his thermos to hide his blush.  
  
Toro smirks at Makoto. “Idiot backed into his neighbor’s mailbox,” he says fondly. Makoto hisses through his teeth in sympathy.  
  
Nakagawa tears a hand through his bedhead, sitting back and balancing the bike without clinging to the handlebars. “It’s gonna suck ass not having a ride this weekend. Of all the _fucking_ times to wreck my Jeep, it’s this weekend, _of course.”  
  
_ Makoto asks, “What happens this weekend?”  
  
_“Everything,”_ Toro snorts, continuing to drive alongside them at an even pace. “We got the surfing finals and the summer festival.” He groans. “Work’s gonna kick our ass these next two days.”  
  
“Oh,” Makoto breathes. His stray friend meows impatiently and he tosses her the rest of his cereal bar. “What is the festival about?”  
  
Nakagawa rolls his eyes, his skinny legs lazily working to keep pedaling. “It’s all about mermaids; the festival is a _complete_ tourist trap.”  
  
Toro winces, considering his point. “Technically, the festival is about celebrating Iwatobi’s history, but since the mermaid sightings give us our reputation, then, well…”  
  
Makoto’s eyes trek to the ocean while Nakagawa grumbles to himself. “Lived in Iwatobi my whole damn life and never even seen anything _close_ to a mermaid. Feels like a birthright at this point –”  
  
Toro whole-heartedly ignores him and says, “Do you believe in mermaids, Tachibana?”  
  
Calmly, Makoto turns to him. “I think that if they’re real, we should probably leave them be.”  
  
“Ah, a conservationist,” Toro chuckles. “A man after my own heart!”  
  
Nakagawa gives a jealous pout before Toro pulls the Jeep over and throws open the passenger door. “All right, go ahead and get in, you two. The Point’s at least three more miles away and I know for a fact that Naka’s little sister will be pissed if he rides her bike into the ground.”

* * *

Upon arriving at Trident’s Point, Makoto thanks Toro for the ride and sneaks some food from the employee breakfast buffet. He then sneaks down to boat warehouse and pushes through the overgrown sea grass to his grandfather’s hidden dock, and sure enough, he finds Rin sitting propped up against a dock pillar with Sousuke’s head resting in his lap. The couple is fast asleep even as the sunrise burns white-hot over the horizon line, though they stir at the warm aroma of breakfast. Makoto offers them crab quiches with coffee, thanking them for taking over at the docks last night so he could get a break and sleep more than three hours.  
  
It seems like no new merfolk showed up last night; all is calm and nobody voices a greeting so they will not break the blessed stillness of the morning. The Derketo laze around the dock, blinking sleepily and stretching their tails as sunshine brightens the sky to a saturated blue. Makoto assumes the Derketo don’t need much sleep, but they have to eat a lot – a group of porpoises breach the distant water and Nii and Aki dive after them in a race to see who can catch breakfast first. They will share their kill with the rest of the Derketo, but in the mean time, Kisumi greedily takes the rest of Makoto’s coffee when he offers it. The Siren wades with his coffee in one hand, his cell phone in the other to show something to Ai, who looks elated at being acknowledged, and the Zagreus is very attentive to whatever Kisumi’s showing him about the human world.  
  
Sousuke seems to be taking things well. It looks like spending more time with the Derketo at night made him realize that they’re pretty much the same _people,_ just minus the legs. He probably didn’t ask as many questions as Makoto did when he first discovered the merfolk; Sousuke seems like the type to observe in silence and then ask Rin questions later, in private. He’s content to steal curious glances at the faint glow of tails when they move, and his ears flex, trying to distinguish the words as Mochizuki and Hiyori murmur in sleepy Greek to one another.  
  
Natsuya slinks out of his boat house with a mess of curls and tired irritation, fuming a sigh at how drenching the humidity already is this morning. Nao breezes onto the docks as pleasant as a spring day, leaning up on his toes to kiss Natsuya’s cheek before sliding into the water. Light pulses under the sea and Nao emerges with a satisfied sigh, gills flaring as he stretches his fin. Natsuya sits with the other humans and languidly drags a foot back and forth through the cool water, smiling while he watches Nao swim.  
  
A new face breaks the surface and Makoto beams, heart startling faster with joy as Haruka’s gaze finds his. The merman swims over, motions going from sluggish to impatient to get to him, and Makoto reaches for Haruka’s hand to interlock their hands best they can with the webbing between the Derketo’s fingers. Haruka loosely hugs an arm around Makoto’s leg, the action so casual and wonderful, and he presses a secret kiss against the hollow of Makoto’s ankle. The Derketo’s face tightens with anxiousness. “How’d it go with your father last night?”  
  
Makoto takes a deep breath as he relives it. “He was… surprised.” Haruka’s shoulders fall with dread and Makoto quickly shakes his head. “But he seemed okay with it, after the shock wore off. Really, he took it better than I ever could have imagined.”  
  
At that, Nagisa looks up from scrolling through his phone, tail wrapped around a dock pillar to laze upright. Happily, he pipes, “What happened?”  
  
“I told my dad last night that I’m gay,” Makoto says, barely able to realize it even happened as he voices it.  
  
Rin whistles low. “Shit, Mako, that was fucking _brave.”_ Even Sousuke’s brows have shot up, eyes wide and impressed. “Proud of you, though. That sounds fuckin’ terrifying.” He puts a hand over his heart with second-hand anxiety for him. “Not knowing how a parent will react is just…”  
  
“Awful,” Sousuke finishes.  
  
The group studies them curiously and Rin assures, “My parents were really chill about me and Sousuke when they realized it. Mom said it was just natural for us to get together, so I never had to have ‘the talk’ with her. More than anything, she was scared for us. She got real protective after that, since we’re pretty, well…”  
  
Natsuya snorts, “Obvious?”  
  
“Yeah,” Rin chuckles, keeping his arms loosely hugged around Sousuke’s front and tucking his chin against his boyfriend’s good shoulder. “So instead of asking us to be more lowkey, Mom just stopped hanging out with her friends that had a problem with us, rather than have us hide it. But she gets _really_ defensive if anyone asks her about what me and Sou are.”  
  
“I think she’s just scared someone will be shitty about it,” Sousuke mumbles, absently rubbing Rin’s wrist. “Rin’s dad even got in a bar fight for us one time – said the guy needed his ass kicked anyway, but…” His eyes fall sad with memory. “It meant like, the world.”  
  
Rin smirks. “He was pretty hard on Sousuke at first, though.”  
  
Sousuke’s shudder has the rest of the group laughing. “Rin’s dad and I were close,” he starts. “One day, he took me finishing by myself and I didn’t think anything of it, but then he suddenly asked if I loved Rin and I said yeah, of course. Then he got right in my face and said it again, and I just kind of froze because I was like, _he knows._ I thought he had brought me out there to drown me, I’m dead fucking serious.”  
  
“He wouldn’t have drowned you,” Rin chuckles.  
  
Sousuke scoffs. _“Yes,_ he would have, if I had said no. But I finally got my shit together and I was like, yeah, I love him a lot, I love him _like that,_ and he stared at me for at least five minutes, not saying a damn _word.”_ He looks down to adjust his red bracelet, and under the genuine gazes of his friends, he confesses, “I almost cried. I didn’t know what the fuck to do, I was like, what if he kicks me out of the house, where am I gonna go, what if he wants us to _stop,_ because we can’t just stop – but then he nodded at me and kept rowing the boat. He was pretty cool with it after that; I think he was just sizing me up, trying to see how serious I was about it.”  
  
Mochizuki swishes his arms through the water in thought. “Human society is quite strange when it comes to sexuality. It’s a very open topic to Derketo, but at the same time, it’s not a big deal at all.”  
  
“It’s a cultural thing for humans,” Haruka says, tucking his temple against Makoto’s leg. “A horrible thing.”  
  
“Yeah,” Nagisa agrees, looking up at the humans. “It makes no sense that it’s still considered a crime in some parts of your ‘modern’ world. Humans do far worse than prefer the same gender. Rei’s parents don’t even know he’s gay, much less about us, and that makes me sad. Not because I feel like a dirty secret or anything, just because he’s happy and he can’t share that with them – or at least he thinks he can’t.”  
  
Kisumi muses, “Asahi told me that he’s pretty sure his mother knows he’s bi, but they’ve never had the conversation.”  
  
Makoto asks, “Does that bother you?”  
  
The Siren shakes his head with a chuckle. “No, I’m not here for her approval, I’m here for Asahi.”  
  
“My dad was pretty uptight when I brought Nao over to meet him,” Natsuya says. “But Nao’s charming, so I think that helped a lot.”  
  
Hiyori tenses and slowly, with boring curiosity, asks, “How did Ikuya react to the two of you?”  
  
Natsuya chuckles, propping a knee up and leaning back against a pillar. “Well, he never liked any of the girlfriends I had in high school. They either didn’t acknowledge him or they tried being too sweet to him. Nao was… pretty surprising to him. I’d never brought a boy home before; I didn’t even know I liked guys until I found Nao.”  
  
Nao smirks. “And now?”  
  
“You’ve literally got half of my soul in your chest, you tell me.”  
  
Hiyori glances at the Siren with an unreadable expression. “So he doesn’t know about you, Nao?”  
  
“No,” he replies with a firm shake of his head. “Humans go through a lot as they grow up and I didn’t think it was right for Ikuya to have to shoulder the secret on top of everything else.”  
  
Hiyori looks down at the water, at his fin. “Right,” he says softly. His mouth firms into a line and he glances away, ducking under the water for a swim on his own.  
  
Nagisa snuggles up to Ai and teases, “Anyone at the Point you think is cute, Ai-chan?”  
  
Ai blushes, fluttering away in embarrassment. “N-No, not really. Zagreus’ are reclusive by nature except during mating season.”  
  
“And then?” Nagisa leers.  
  
“Why are Sirens so _invasive,”_ Ai whines, hiding his face in his hands. Haruka swats his fin at Nagisa to make him back off and the Siren splutters when he’s splashed, making the rest of the group laugh.  
  
The church bell downtown strikes eight o’clock, echoing through Iwatobi, and Natsuya pops to his feet with far too much enthusiasm. “All right, lads, time to get to work. Big day ahead of us!” His dock hands groan and he drags them toward the marina, but not before Makoto leans over the dock to steal a kiss from Haruka’s lips.

* * *

The day is absolute chaos from the start and crowds swarm Trident’s Point like never before as the employees scramble to get prepared for the festival tonight. Makoto helps Haruka hang starfish banners across every doorway, the shorter boy standing on a chair while Makoto keeps his hands secure on his hips to steady him as he tapes the banners up. And if Makoto feels him up when nobody’s looking, well, Haruka’s blush is the only evidence of it.  
  
After that, Makoto rushes to the gift shop to help Nao and Ai shove a new shipment of stuffed, chibi mermaids into cubbies amongst glittery seals and pink sharks. “These are all so cute,” Nao chuckles. “I’m going to buy Natsuya something if there’s anything left at the end of the day.”  
  
Makoto helps hang up some local artwork for sale. There are oil paintings of the swamp slathered in rich, earthy tones as well as tranquil pastels of the shore at dawn, and some of the employees even tried their hand at a few scenes. Rei drew butterflies dancing in the sea grass and Asahi has some photography of his corgi playing at the beach.  
  
Makoto notices other artwork of local mythology: there are depictions of Iwatobi’s wetlands bruised purple with evening light, the dots of glowing faeries breaking up the dark woods. Several pieces include merfolk, but thankfully, none of them look like any of Makoto’s friends – most of them are mermaids with accentuated curves, their long curls flowing over their breasts with wanton expressions. Aki and Nii study the paintings with crossed arms and flat looks, turning their attention to a depiction of a mermaid perched on some rocks with a longing gaze cast to a ship in the distant sea. Nii shrugs. “Well, I mean, she _is_ kind of cute.”  
  
Her girlfriend considers. “Yeah. Her eyes are pretty. But what mermaid do you even know covers her boobs when she’s swimming?”  
  
“True,” Nii sighs, glancing down at Aki’s clothed chest dreamily and receiving a fond pinch to the cheek.  
  
Makoto hurries to the kitchen as cooks shout orders, grease hissing with the thick aroma of salmon, and his stomach yawns hungrily. He helps Asahi make martinis with lemon wedges sliced in the shape of surfboards and he cuts sandwiches up like whale fins, then _of course,_ just when they run out of oysters, a prestigious food critic arrives with his entourage demanding the Point’s best oyster dish.  
  
Momotarou shoves Makoto and Haruka onto the nearest jet ski, giving them directions to the seafood market across the channel even though they know that will take too much time. Makoto, bless his earnestness, races around the corner of the Point but as soon as they’re out of everyone’s sight and draped in the shadow of the building, Haruka rolls his eyes and dives into the water. He emerges holding his hand out for the oyster bag, his tail flicking impatiently, and Makoto tosses him the bag in confusion.  
  
Haruka goes under for exactly twenty-three seconds and returns heaving the bag up onto the jet ski – oysters topple over the lip of the bag, the fabric stretched to the brim. He ignores Makoto’s dropped jaw and climbs back onto the seat to straddle it, flexing his feet to get feeling back in them.  
  
Makoto stares. “You – how – _where even –”_ Smartly, he closes his mouth and his eyes follow the water trails down Haruka’s chest, billowing dark through the fabric of his shirt. “You know, they don’t expect us back for fifteen minutes.”  
  
Haruka glances down as Makoto’s fingers walk up his thigh. “I’m not jerking you off on a jet ski.”  
  
“You won’t have to,” Makoto smiles. “Just kiss me.”  
  
Haruka’s face floods red, chest hiccupping on a gasp before he surges against Makoto’s mouth. They’re getting better at this orgasm thing – Makoto had every faith in the world that just feeling the roll of Haruka’s tongue could make him come, but then Haruka shoves a hand down the front of his swim trunks like he can’t help himself and pleasure blasts through Makoto’s body, all of his muscles clenching with it. He’s borderline _delirious_ when it’s over, but he manages to work his hand into Haruka’s shorts and pump him until he’s hunching over Makoto’s arm and biting into his shoulder to cage a scream.  
  
Makoto washes his hand off in the water but Haruka merely licks the sticky sweetness off his fingers, meeting Makoto’s hopeless gaze as he does it, then he has the nerve to pat Makoto’s leg and nudge him toward the jet ski’s handlebars like _work_ honestly matters right now.  
  
He has to kiss Haruka one more time with a soft moan, their lips parting just as the dolphin tour boat zooms by and Kisumi and Nagisa throw wolf-whistles their way. Makoto fumes a sigh and kicks the jet ski to life, grinning when Haruka buries his face between his shoulder blades in embarrassment.  
  
They scramble back to the kitchen and spread the oysters over the counter. Asahi stares down at the challenge and pops his knuckles as Momotarou flips his cap on backwards and cracks his neck, then they get to work. They keep their tongues pinched between their teeth, carefully flourishing half shells with diced cucumbers, chilies and pear before sending the dish off to Gou to serve to the food critic. They anxiously watch the exchange through the kitchen door’s tiny window and when Gou sends them a thumbs up behind her back, they deflate to the floor.  
  
Makoto helps Gou with serving and it’s so chaotic that it’s as if he’s watching himself go through the motions of taking orders, too overwhelmed to really be grounded, only getting a moment to catch his breath when he sneaks dry looks with Kazuki as customers try to complain about how hot it is outside on the balcony. Umbrellas accompany each and every table, keeping the patrons at least twenty degrees cooler than the burning hell the servers are melting under.  
  
The local band helps the time go by quicker, even makes it enjoyable. Makoto’s next customer is a lone woman whose face is hidden by a sunhat and wide sunglasses but he greets her with the same artificial enthusiasm he’s learned to master over the last few hours.  
  
But he freezes when she pulls her glasses down the bridge of her nose just enough to show him her eyes – they’re bruised, the whites bloodshot with exhaustion, and he realizes that her mouth is busted black and _oh my god_ – “Miho?”  
  
She smirks, her chapped lips cracking with the motion. Sarcastically, she says, “Wise beyond your years, as the poets would say.”  
  
He quickly glances around and once he’s sure nobody is paying them attention, he frantically whispers, “What are you doing here, are you okay?”  
  
She snorts into her whiskey glass, taking a deep swallow before setting it down with a hard thump. “Turns out sneaking out of a hospital is nowhere near as easy or fun as it looks on television but hell, I’m alive. Can’t complain.” Her fingers skitter over her glass, her busted knuckles swollen fat with pain. “Nowhere is safe from Blacksand. Not for me, anyway.” She thumbs at the gnash on her wrist, pressing the skin white before it floods with color again. “If I stayed in the hospital, they would’ve found me. They won’t come here, not in public. Not for now, at least.”  
  
Makoto sits down beside her, bobbing his leg anxiously, failing at looking inconspicuous but not having the mind to care. “You can’t go home?”  
  
Her laugh is degrading. “And bring my parents into this? No.”  
  
“There’s no one you can go to?” He searches her face desperately.  
  
Her smile twists with bittersweet sadness. “There’s… there’s a girl in New Zealand. We met as undergrads; she’s out there studying the orca.” Her mask falters, but then she shakes her head firmly. “I can’t drag her into any of this. So I’m on my own, I guess.” She rips her sunglasses off to knead the bridge of her nose, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where else to go. If I leave Iwatobi, they’ll find me anywhere I try to run.” She gazes out at the ocean, rolling her chin on her fist with a hopeless shrug. “It’s not like I’m scared of dying, I just… really don’t want to.”  
  
Makoto’s heart floods with sympathy. “How did you even find out about the Derketo?”  
  
She snorts a laugh. “That’s what they’re called? Damn. Well, generalizing all of them as mermaids was pretty sexist anyway.” She drags a hand through her mess of oily, unwashed hair, then makes a face and wipes her hand on the table cloth. “I hacked into my superior’s computer when we were still on that boat here at the Point. I found videos of what they did to that shark-looking kid.” She holds her stomach with nausea. “He didn’t even have a name; he was just given a serial number like a fuckin’ lab experiment, _like a thing.”_ Her fist clenches on the table. “To think that anyone could cut something – no, _someone,_ open like that and keep sewing them up just to do it over and over again… to try and say thst it’s all in the name of _science…”_ She quickly turns away to wipe at her eyes. “That’s not science, that’s torture. And I couldn’t be a part of that.” Her gaze bores into Makoto. “I hate myself for it even though I wasn’t the one with the scalpel. I was with that company. I’m human just like those scientists are.” She shudders. “How do we even live with ourselves when we breathe just like those monsters? Like rapists, like serial killers. How can I fathom that I’m capable of those same evils by simply being human?”  
  
“You’re not like them,” Makoto insists. “You risked your life for the Derketo.” When Miho doesn’t look convinced, he leans forward. “You saved _the love of my life._ He could have been that science experiment. I’m forever grateful for what you did and I know he is, too.” Her eyes widen and water as Makoto adds, “Let us help you.”

* * *

He sneaks Miho to the back of the boat warehouse, where he meets with his friends on their lunch break. She explains the situation to them and when she’s done, Nagisa purses his lips. “Well, she’s not lying. I’d be able to feel it if she was.”  
  
“Still,” Natsuya mumbles, crossing his arms and sizing the woman up. “She could change. Blacksand could threaten almost anyone into doing what they want if they find her.”  
  
“Anyone can change,” Nao interjects. “Including change for the better.”  
  
Natsuya stares at him in disbelief. “I would have thought you were the one most against her, given that –”  
  
_“Given_ that I slaughtered three boats of people who wanted to kill you?” Nao lifts his brows. “Those men were an obvious threat. She isn’t – look at her, she has no ulterior motives, no weapons. She has nothing.” He gives Miho another once over before nodding to himself. “She can stay in our houseboat for now. She saved Makoto and Rin’s lives as well as our own, the least we can do is give her a safe place to rest.”  
  
Natsuya opens his mouth to protest and Nao levels him with a hard look, silencing him before turning a smile to Miho, already walking toward the exit. “If you’ll follow me, Amakata-san.”  
  
The other Derketo make their silent agreement with the ordeal and Natsuya relents with a sigh before everyone gets back to work, though they keep glancing at the houseboat all throughout the day. Makoto assists Uozumi with setting up tables for the children’s artwork competition and helps a little girl finish painting all eight legs of the octopus-mermaid she cleverly created. Then she wants to add glitter and it becomes an absolute mess, but she’s fit to burst into light with how proud of the artwork she is, so it’s worth it.  
  
Even though the surfing competition isn’t until tomorrow, sponsors are already renting out a few boat spaces at the marina. Makoto and Sousuke help lug their equipment down to the beach, their calves on fire after only three trips. They take a break when they’re finished, downing water bottles as they sit in the sand amongst a rainbow of beach towels and umbrellas. They watch news stations set up their cameras along the coastline and Makoto pipes, “Are you surfing tomorrow?”  
  
Sousuke nods, invigorated. Rin and Tomo are giving surfing lessons in the shallows, teaching a group of children how to stand on their boards and ride the softer swells. Rin straddles his board with effortless balance and knows just how to guide a little boy’s arms to help him stay upright, laughing through the instructions as the boy pouts impatiently. Curiously, Makoto asks, “Why doesn’t Rin surf in any competitions?”  
  
“He used to,” Sousuke says. “He still surfs recreationally, but he doesn’t do competitions anymore.” He snorts into his water bottle. “Thank fuck for everyone else – he’s a better surfer than Sei, and that’s saying a lot. I’m pretty sure that Sei knew how to surf before he learned how to walk.”  
  
“Does he not want to be in competition with you or something?”  
  
Sousuke laughs louder than Makoto’s ever heard him. “Getting to beat me was his favorite part of competitions. Nah, that’s not it.” He shrugs. “His dad was the one who taught us how to surf and I think when he went missing, the fire kind of died in Rin. It’s still there and he’ll probably compete again one day, but he needs… I guess, some sort of bridge to remember how much he loves it? I think that’s what I am for him in that sense. He puts all that passion into supporting me.” He watches his boyfriend in silence for a minute before softly adding, “I hope he’ll come back to the water, though. I miss having him out there.”  
  
Rin and Tomo finish the surfing lessons and Rin flops down beside Sousuke and Makoto, sprawling on his back with a groan. “A jellyfish stung me out there.”  
  
Sousuke says, “Did you kick his ass for it?”  
  
“Fuck yeah.” He mumbles his thanks as his boyfriend gives him the rest of his water, then Rin grins. “You ready for tomorrow, big guy?”  
  
Sousuke nods with determination. Rin chuckles and regards Makoto. “He’s been sneaking out at night to surf. Clearly I’m not enough for him.”   
  
“I can’t stop dreaming about the water,” Sousuke says. “I even taste salt when I wake up.”  
  
Makoto winces. “Sounds like you’re obsessing over it a bit.”  
  
Rin scoffs. _“A bit?_ Who in their right mind would get out of bed and leave all _this –”_ He sweeps a hand down his body, wet suit clinging to the flex of his muscles. “— to go flap around in the cold-ass ocean if they weren’t a borderline maniac?”  
  
“Clingy,” Sousuke frowns, but he doesn’t protest when Rin wraps his arms around his neck to peck his cheek. Sousuke even turns his head to catch his lips once.  
  
Rin purrs, “Leaving me all alone for the damn water. You should know that I got something you can _swim in –”_  
  
Makoto quickly makes his leave before the air can catch on fire with teenage hormones.

* * *

Though Trident’s Point will stay open until 2 a.m. for the festival tonight, the gift shop is _thankfully_ closing at its regular time. Nao lets Ai go early, since today was his first day on the job and dealing with so many people surely overwhelmed him. Nao congratulates him on a job well done and finishes the day up by helping an elderly woman choose post cards to send to her children – she’s travelling the world since her husband past away from cancer five months ago. Her smile is sad when she tells Nao this, but she’s relaxed and breezy, her skin dark with a tan from visiting the pyramids, wrists adorned with bracelets from India. The post cards are for her kids back home and Nao is earnest in helping her pick the best ones, even offering to mail them for her since she isn’t sure where the post office is in regard to her hotel.  
  
She studies him as he wraps her spontaneous buy of a mermaid figurine in newspaper. “You are in love?”  
  
He smiles, more intrigued than confused. “I am. How’d you know?” He and Natsuya don’t wear rings since they aren’t married by human customs.  
  
“I could just tell,” she laughs. “Well-loved people carry themselves a certain way. Not exactly _confident,_ but… steady in themselves. Their smiles are softer.” She hugs the figurine to herself and beams. “Is it a woman or a man?”  
  
He laughs at her bluntness. “A man. A very good man.”  
  
“I’m sure he is.” She gathers up her maps of Iwatobi, sighing, “If there was any advice I wish my husband and I had back when we were young, it’s to stop listening to advice.”  
  
He lifts his brows. “Really?”  
  
“Oh, yes. People think they know _everything._ Especially those with failing relationships.” She makes him laugh again and the woman smiles. “It should be as simple as treating each other with basic human kindness. That can be hard sometimes, when love is involved. Love can be painful and we sometimes have to compromise, but we cannot forget to be polite and understanding.”  
  
He smirks. “That’s very good advice.”  
  
“Don’t call it advice, you know I hate that word.” She winks on her way out the door. “Best of luck to you both!”  
  
“You as well,” Nao calls after her. She was his last customer and he goes through the motions of shutting down the computer, closing the register and feeling victorious when he realizes he made it far past his daily quota.  
  
The door chimes open and Nao doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Natsuya – he brings with him the warmth of sweat and the saturated tang of his cologne. Nao’s knees may or may not buckle. He’d rather not discuss it.  
  
Natsuya also brings with him a lingering tinge of annoyance pinched between his brows. Clearly he’s still upset about having to compromise for Miho and Nao opens his mouth to address it, but he stops short when Natsuya flops a to-go bag down on the counter. “Eat.” Nao stares and Natsuya crosses his arms. “You didn’t have lunch today. Eat.” He pulls up a stool and waits.  
  
Warmth sneaks into Nao’s chest and he sits down beside Natsuya, heart jumping when he opens the bag. “Crab cakes?”  
  
“Your favorite.” His stern mask twitches with a grin. “I had Momo save you some.”  
  
“Thank you.” He bites into one and groans, mouth flooding with sweetness before he delves into another and another, making Natsuya give a pleased chuckle. When Nao’s finished, Natsuya uses his thumb to wipe his lip and Nao kisses it. “Those were wonderful.”  
  
“I reckon so, since you devoured them in less than five minutes.”  
  
Nao finds one last crab cake in the bottom of the bag and offers it to his boyfriend. Natsuya lazily parts his lips for it, too tired to move as he rests his head on his chin. Nao feeds it to him and Natsuya’s eyes fall closed with a sleepy, endearing noise that makes Nao pet through his curls. “We can put Miho in a hotel if that would make you more comfortable.”  
  
Natsuya’s eyes blink open, brows scrunching. “Huh?” he muffles, quickly chewing the rest of his food and swallowing. “What made you say that all of a sudden?”  
  
Nao glances away with a rare blush. “I hadn’t considered your feelings when I offered her a place to stay. Even though this is such a dire situation, I should have talked about it with you first. I’m sorry.”  
  
Natsuya smears crumbs off his mouth. “I appreciate what she did, protecting Makoto and Rin. To risk your life for people you don’t even know… that’s hard. I don’t know if I could do it.”  
  
“You don’t trust her.”  
  
“I trust your magic,” Natsuya says. “If you say she’s not lying and her intentions are honest, that she just needs somewhere safe to stay – then I believe you. But this whole thing is too much.” He turns away from Nao’s gaze, jaw hardening with an unspoken emotion. Nao takes his hands and Natsuya’s shoulders finally drop. “I hated seeing you like that. When Blacksand –”  
  
Nao doesn’t need clarification. “I scared you.”  
  
“No,” Natsuya lunges, making Nao tense when he takes his face in hand to force their gazes together. “Look at me, you hear me? I’m not afraid of you. I love you, all of you.” He thumbs Nao’s cheek. “You saved my life.”  
  
“I killed people. Three boats worth of people.”  
  
_“You saved my life.”_ He studies his expression. “Do you feel guilty? Is that what this is all about?”  
  
“No,” Nao says, meaning it. “I can’t feel guilt over killing – I _physically_ can’t. Perks of being a Siren.” He didn’t mean to sound so degrading but it just comes out.  
  
“Stop that.” Natsuya’s fingers tangle in Nao’s hair to give a teasing tug, making him fall boneless with submission in more ways than one.  
  
“Dick move,” he nearly moans.  
  
Natsuya smirks and licks into his mouth to soothe him, then he murmurs, “We’ll deal with any changes when they come. Miho can stay with us for now.” He sighs, lips falling down Nao’s throat with a mournful noise. “But where in the world am I going to fuck you tonight after the festival?”  
  
Nao lapses into a foreign curse, fingers digging into Natsuya’s biceps to pull him closer. “You can fuck me wherever you want.”   
  
“Mm, what about right here?”  
  
_“Perfect.”_  He leans into Natsuya’s kiss, hands hungry under his shirt to feel his naked skin, but then he pulls away with a thought. “Oh, hey, do you want to get married?”  
  
Natsuya freezes to the bone. Nao thinks his blood might even stall in his veins. “What… _what the hell?”_  
  
Nao shrugs. “I was just thinking since we consummated by my culture’s standards and not yours, it might be nice to –”  
  
_“WHAT –!”_ Natsuya staggers away to pace, hands on his hips as he shakes his head in building disbelief, mumbling up a storm. “Mom _insisted_ it wouldn’t be like this, she said it herself: ‘Natsu-chan, he will be _so_ romantic about it I’m sure, he will put in the utmost care into to asking’ – even _Ikuya_ thought –”  
  
Nao gets to his feet in a stupor. “Natsuya, what are you talking about –”  
  
“You did _not_ just ask me to marry you in the damned gift shop!” He’s nearly stomping his foot with whiny frustration and Nao rolls his lips in to bite down on the giggle that’s trying to burst free. “How can you be this _dry?_ Nao, baby, _come on.”_ Nao finally has to sing a laugh and Natsuya buries his face in his hands. “I had such faith in you. The personification of magic and romance just asked for my hand in a _gift shop –”  
  
_ “Jesus, you read too much,” Nao wheezes. “Never mind, I’ll summon the doves next time there’s a full moon.”  
  
“Yes,” Natsuya insists, steepling his fingers with inspiration. “Yes, I want doves, goddamit. You know what, matter of fact, I’ll make this easy for you. I’m going to pretend you never even asked, better yet –” He strides for the door with purpose and exits, leaving Nao to die at the hand of his laughter.  
  
Natsuya opens the door, beaming like nothing ever happened, and comes over to peck Nao’s lips. “Hello, mate.”  
  
“Hi, mate.” Nao falls supple in the cage of his arms. “How was your day?”  
  
“All the more better, now that you’re here.” He guides Nao over to the reading nook by the hand. “Come sit with me by the window, you look so pretty in this light.”  
  
Natsuya sprawls out and Nao settles sideways across his lap, wrapping his arms around Natsuya’s neck as his boyfriend pulls his thighs closer. The human gives a blissful sigh, eyes falling closed as he basks in the warm, streaming light. Nao watches his face, nearly in pain with how much love consumes him.  
  
Natsuya’s voice falls to a whisper. “Sing to me, Siren.”  
  
Nao does, crooning against his ear, his voice honeyed with a thousand different harmonies that praise every inch of Natsuya from the inside out. The wordless melodies are not what he learned from other Sirens; they’re songs that Natsuya taught him in a tangle of bed sheets, in stares across the room, in that look he wore when their gazes first met, when his eyes whispered, _“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”  
_

* * *

As the sunset bleeds the ocean red, Makoto and Haruka lean over the boardwalk railing to gaze down at the maze of beach venders stretching as far as the eye can see. Children dressed as faeries race between booths, their wings bobbing while little mermaids hike up their long, scale-printed skirts to chase after them. Restaurants saturate the air with enticing aromas of fried food and dogs chase shallow waves, barking at the surfers in the distant water – they slash through the black waves on glow-in-the-dark boards and local photographers hungrily capture the sight with rapid shutter clicks. Makoto notices Gou on her own board beside Seijuro, who can do nothing but stare as her wet hair rolls down her shoulder. He’s too dumbstruck to notice Nakagawa and Tomo zoom by on a wave and they pummel him into the water, which results in Seijuro roaring a blush-worthy slew of curses as he chases them toward the buoy.  
  
Rin goes after a wave with Sousuke, shouting his victory when he glides down the barrel, but Sousuke just shakes his head with a fond smirk before paddling toward the next swell. Uozumi and Kazuki don’t seem very interested in wasting energy on swimming, instead choosing to laze on their boards and drink beer from red-solo cups as they cheer on Seijuro’s plight.  
  
“Mako-chan, Haru-chan!” They turn to see Nagisa waving at them with one hand, Rei’s fingers clasped in the other. They both look young with excitement, faces flushed with their smiles. “We’re going to the ghost tour at the lighthouse! Wanna come?”  
  
Makoto freezes and Haruka smirks. “Thanks, but we’ll hang out here.”  
  
Nagisa huffs, turning up his nose. “Suit yourself. _I’m_ going to get cultured in local legends.”  
  
Makoto and Haruka regard Rei, who shrugs sheepishly. “I’m going because he wants to.”  
  
“Such a smart man~” Nagisa kisses his cheek and whisks him away toward the cliff path. He waves, “See you at the fireworks!”  
  
Makoto waves after them before raising a brow at Haruka. “Fireworks?”  
  
He shrugs. “It’s a tradition, I think. Kind of like how Asahi and Momotarou have keg-stand competitions after the festival every year.”  
  
Makoto laughs and takes his hand, tucking their arms together as they lean over the railing once more. Haruka nestles his cheek against Makoto’s shoulder and watches sailboats carve through the ocean. “Can we just stay here for a while?”  
  
Makoto pecks the top of his head. “Whatever you want.”  
  
“This,” he says softly, squeezing Makoto’s hand with emphasis. “This is all I want.”  
  
Makoto tucks his smile against Haruka’s hair and they watch the sun drown into the ocean.

* * *

The night kicks off with flashing neon and pulsing bass. Nii watches the club-goers with vague interest, boredly taking a pull of her hookah pipe and letting the grape-flavored smoke brim her throat, lazily blowing rings before she passes the pipe off to Aki. Her girlfriend gives it to another waitress that came with them, too busy dancing in her seat to care about anything else. Nii watches her fondly, the alcohol in her veins singing a little hotter. “You wanna go dance?”  
  
Aki nods and clutches her biceps in excitement, gazing up at Nii like she just hung the moon, and Nii chuckles as she helps the tipsy redhead to her feet. Normally, getting lost in a crowd is Nii’s version of hell, but the vodka helps calm her nerves, plus she can’t even remember her worries with Aki’s back pressed against her chest. This electronic island track didn’t even seem to have a beat at first, but it’s suddenly got rhythm when Aki dances to it. Nii follows her with casual sways, hands on her waist not to guide it but to just feel it roll. Aki moves her arms with the music, hips winding back against Nii and _that’s_ definitely a movement she can follow. They go song after song until their legs are on fire and they can’t stop laughing, Nii’s senses hay-wiring from Aki’s strawberry shampoo and her smile.  
  
They step outside to get some air, ducking into the green-darkness of the nearby woods, the coolness of the damp earth invigorating them. The muffled bass fades away as birds croon sleepily and the girls pant for breath, giggling with their heads tucked together. Aki wipes smudged eyeliner off Nii’s face, eyes roaming over her features with a dazed flutter of lashes, and redness spills down Aki’s throat toward her cleavage. “You’re so pretty,” she sighs, face flushed with drunkenness. “Like, wow.”  
  
“Babe, are you hitting on me?”  
  
Aki’s giggles bubble against Nii’s lips, her mouth warm, tasting like red wine and peppermint-sharp chapstick. Aki’s breath catches in excitement when Nii’s hips pin her to a tree, one hand cupping her throat to guide the kiss deeper, the other hand opening her jaw for rough sweeps of tongue. Nii looses herself to the heat flooding between her legs, brows furrowing over closed eyes as her lip swells in the pinch of Aki’s teeth. Nii teases a bite against her throat and Aki sways up on her toes with pleasure, soft little hands fluttering under her girlfriend’s tank top to tug at her bra clasp in frustration. Nii rasps a chuckle and hikes Aki up against the tree – she flails for balance, arms and legs vicing around Nii with a scream of laughter. “Don’t let me go!”    
  
“Never,” Nii whispers before claiming her mouth once more. She squeezes into the plumpness of Aki’s short legs, thumbs tracing stretchmarks with loving sweeps; Nii’s hipbones protrude through her black overalls and dig into Aki’s inner-thighs but her girlfriend loves the sharp pressure. She kisses Nii’s thin lips swollen, fingers kneading every knob of her spine. Neither of them were physically confident when they first met but they have learned how to accept their bodies through each other, not shying away from intimacy when it comes with such adoration.  
  
Aki rests their foreheads together, dizzy off of Nii’s taste, and her voice is rent with something far deeper than emotional drunkenness. “I’m so happy here, Satomi.”  
  
“Me too, Zaki-chan.” They’re close enough for her to count each and every star-point of Aki’s freckles. “I love you a lot.” They’ve found paradise in the simplicity of this small town – in their routine at Trident’s Point and the family they found there. But even with how lucky they are, Nii thinks that Aki is at the core of all things good; the world would be dull if she were not such a blinding light thrown from the stars. They say that Helen of Troy had a face that launched a thousand ships, but Aki’s got the kind of smile that could bring a war to a stand-still.  
  
Nii isn’t sure at which point in their relationship that she started thinking in long distance terms. Words such as “eternity” and “forever” never once crossed her mind when she lived in the forest alone with the fae, too bitter with her circumstances to even care about eating, much less the concept of time. The days were unmoving in the swamp; though it was always sunny, the light was never hopeful. The sun did nothing but watch when Nii cried for her slaughtered crocodiles, their blood staining her soul with hatred for poachers and all other humans. She had a mental breakdown of grief, horror, and loneliness that lasted for months.  
  
But then that blessed storm swept Aki into Nii’s bayou and suddenly the Earth wasn’t a dying animal she couldn’t save. In Aki’s eyes, life was rich with spontaneity because her world wasn’t clouded with fear or social phobias of both humans and other Derketo. Day by day of her long recovery in the swamp, Aki pried Nii’s shell open a bit further with gentle questions, listening to her answers earnestly whether Nii was timid or defensively self-conscious. Her kindness had Nii venturing to the ocean and tasting salt water for the first time, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.  
  
She’s been devoted to Aki since they met, but she’s _really_ starting to understand just how lost she is in those brown eyes. Aki studies her, gaze intent on Nii’s face as she slides a hand down her throat to her chest, fingers splayed over her heart. Aki’s eyes go wide with a pleading question and Nii smiles, giving her what she wants – Derketo’s souls are a _living_ essence, a tangible emotion with a mind of its own, and Nii feels her soul unwrap from the hug around her heart to press against the wall of her skin, reaching for Aki’s hand. Lavender light streams through Aki’s fingers in playful tendrils that make her giggle. “It likes me.”  
  
_“I_ like you,” Nii laughs.  
  
Aki’s fingers stroke over her heart, looking mournful as the light screams for her, trapped behind the barrier of Nii’s skin. “I hate hearing it cry,” she whispers.  
  
Nii’s soul burns as she reigns it in, caging it around her heart once more – the girls are enveloped by forest darkness again and Nii hugs Aki closer, pecking her cheek. “Did you know that yours sings to me when you sleep?”  
  
Aki lifts up on her toes to wrap her arms around Nii’s neck, playing with her hair. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I’m so in love with you.”  
  
Nii’s smile is breathless. “Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.” Aki drags her down for a kiss and need flares between them, carving deeper than the usual frantic, physical urges. Aki’s voice trembles. “Bond with me.”  
  
Nii pulls back, nearly staggering. Her mouth flies open to protest but she can’t find the words because _she wants it._ Gods, she’s never wanted anything more than to have Aki with her always – under her skin, inside her heart, their thoughts woven together to create one conscious mind. In all honesty, Nii’s been ready to cut her soul in half and offer it up on her knees from the start.  
  
But she has to whisper, “Are you sure?”  
  
Aki nods vigorously, hanging onto Nii by her biceps with her head craned back to gaze up at her achingly. “Yes, please. _Please.”_  
  
Nii combs through Aki’s ginger fringe, her hands already shaking with anticipation. She can’t find her voice and Aki hesitates at this, shrinking away. “Do you not want to?”  
  
Nii scoffs a laugh so loud with disbelief that crows flutter from their nests. Aki blinks up at her with repressed hope and Nii kisses all of her fingers. “Zaki-chan, you’re the sweetest thing that ever lived. Of course I want to.”  
  
Aki surges with excitement and almost knocks Nii over, but she holds her up in an embrace. “You want to?!”  
  
“Yes,” Nii chuckles, holding her down for an earnest kiss. She gives Aki a playfully stern look. “But you know I have the fae. Can you really live with them forever?”  
  
“Without question,” Aki frowns, reprimanding. “We talk smack about you all the time.”  
  
Nii’s hair pins vibrate with laughter, hidden faeries peeling away from her barrettes to fly around the couple. Nii fumes a sigh and Aki giggles, kissing the tip of her nose.  
  
They go to their favorite breach, helping each other down a short cliff to a lone strip of sand at the edge of the forest. The moon gazes on as Aki steps out of her flip flops and Nii unties her combat boots, peeling off her socks to bury her toes in the cool sand. Neither of them meet their eyes as they undress, suddenly shy. Aki pulls off of her floral blouse but keeps her denim cut offs and bikini top on, taking the time to fold her shirt so she can try to gather her wits, but her hands are trembling.  
  
Nii keeps her gaze firm on the ground as she unclasps her overalls, shimming out of them and leaving them in a crumbled heap on a driftwood log. She keeps her panties and tank top on because she’s self-conscious enough right now as it is – she glances down at her shapeless thighs, legs bone-straight and utterly disinteresting, arms so pale that her veins look more black than blue. But then she feels the weight of a gaze and Nii looks up to see Aki’s expression thrown open with adoration, so Nii gathers the courage to creep closer.  
  
Aki reaches for her first, fingers gliding through Nii’s hair to gently pull the strands loose from their tie. Taking a mermaid’s hair down is considered an intimate act to their kind; simply touching another’s hair is something revered and Aki does it with such delicacy that it calms Nii’s nerves. She shakes out her hair like those cheesy shampoo commercials she and Aki like to make fun of and her girlfriend laughs, tension breaking just enough. Nii unwinds Aki’s braids, her curls flowing down her shoulders. Nii pecks her forehead before they step into the ocean hand-in-hand, their pulses racing in their clasped fingers.  
  
Aki finds the courage to face her but keeps her gaze cast to the water as she tucks some hair behind her ear. Nii guides her chin up for their eyes to meet and Aki smiles, nestling her cheek in the comforting scoop of Nii’s palm. She takes a deep breath and nods to herself, taking both of Nii’s hands. “We should say something before we do it.”  
  
Nii’s smirk is wary. “This isn’t a human ceremony.”  
  
_“C’mon,_ it’s cute,” she whines, tugging her insistently.  
  
Nii thinks for a minute, brushing over Aki’s knuckles and nails. Usually when she looks at her girlfriend, words fail her, but tonight, the severity of this moment makes the words flow out of her easy as water. “Briareos Yazaki, child of the primordial storm giant who is _so_ going to kick my tits in when he realizes I’ve deflowered his daughter –” Aki startles a giggle. “I have no idea what you see in a swamp rat like me, but…” Her voice burns with passion. “But I’ll keep trying to be worth you. I _will_ be worth you.”  
  
“You already are,” Aki croaks, tears scattering down her face.  
  
Nii’s throat tightens with emotion. “I’d do anything to keep you safe and I promise to protect you from both sharks and spiders alike.” Aki sobs a laugh. “I love you.”  
  
Aki smears her tears away. “Melusina Satomi, daughter of Demeter and Gaia, I hope that when we share a soul I can show you just how amazing you are. Your devotion to protecting your forest and the fae is so admirable and you make me so proud to be yours.” She squeezes Nii’s hands. “Thank you for being my best friend and making me feel safe and happy and so comfortable with myself.” She chews her trembling lip. “I promise to sing you to sleep every night and I promise that you’ll never be alone again.”  
  
The waves circle them, comforting their fear of dying as two beings and rebirthing as one. Aki grins at the dancing swells. “The ocean is impatient with us.”  
  
Nii says, “We shouldn’t keep it waiting.”  
  
Their gazes meet, eyes glowing as webbing spreads between their fingers, gills flaring open at their throats and ribs. The seafoam hisses with the ancient chanting of the ocean as the breeze whispers through their hair, but the girls only hear the song in their blood.  
  
Their smiles curl wider until they’re bursting at the seams with excitement and their mouths surge together. Aki falls backward into the water with Nii, scales crawling down their legs in a golden flash of light as the ocean swallows them whole.

* * *

Momotarou helps Tomo and Nakagawa set up the fireworks since Uozumi and Kazuki are already plastered and don’t need to handle anything that even _might_ explode. He complains through lazily sorting bottle rockets and fire crackers, sighing every fifteen seconds because he is _so_ over working right now – his friends from school are playing a brutal match of tackle football a mere hundred yards down the beach and he was supposed to eat his weight in funnel cake _hours_ ago, but Tomo and Nakagawa are unsympathetic to his cause and bury him in a pile of bamboo canons to set up.  
  
Not only does Momotarou have to work tonight, but he’s also been shouldered with the task of babysitting. Well, he was _told_ to babysit, but he’s not really doing it. His mom might have used that term when she made him take his little sister to the festival, but Suzume’s got more energy than Momotarou ever dreamed of having at her age, so she doesn’t really, well, “sit.” It’s more like, she vanishes into a puff of smoke the moment Momotarou gives her money and he doesn’t exactly chase after her.  
  
It’s due to this turn of events that he gets a little scared shitless when he breaches the mountain of bamboo canons and he doesn’t see her at any of the booths lining the beach. He asks Uozumi and Kazuki if they saw her but they can’t even come up for air as they shove their tongues down each others throats, so they’re pretty much useless. Nakagawa and Tomo are just as clueless as to where went since they were busy actually doing their work to notice much else.  
  
He’s accepting defeat when a timid voice comes from behind him. “Excuse me?”  
  
Momotarou stumbles around and blinks. The new boy from work stands before him with a tiny hand clutched in his own, wearing a shy smile that makes warmth bloom across Momotarou’s cheeks. “Is this your sister?”  
  
Oh, right, he has a sister. Momotarou crosses his arms at Suzume, who snuggles into the boy’s side with a yawn too adorable for words. She’s too tired to even keep her eyes open and the scaley faceprint has sweated off her face, hair a tangled mess from colored spray, and Momotarou can already hear how loudly she’s going to cry when their mom tries to wash it out. But when she stumbles over to him and makes grabby hands, he has to pick her up despite that she _reeks_ from playing in the summer heat all day and her mermaid costume is damp with sweat.  
  
“Ah, thank you~” Momotarou tells the boy, who tucks some hair behind his ear with a polite nod. Momotarou nearly wheezes with the cuteness. “Hey, you just started working at Trident’s Point, didn’t you?”  
  
Ai nods, red and blue carnival lights dancing in his grey eyes. Momotarou just stares for a second before mentally kicking himself. “Um, I’m, uh –” _Shit, shit, what is his name?!_ “I’m Momotarou. B-But most people just call me Momo!”  
  
The boy inclines his head sweetly. “Ai.”  
  
“That’s a pretty name.” Momotarou’s eyes crinkle with his smile.  
  
Ai doesn’t fluster like Momotarou wanted him to, though he does arch a brow with vague surprise. “Thank you.”  
  
He tucks his cheek against Suzume’s temple. “I hope she didn’t bother you too much, I know she can be annoying.”  
  
“She was no trouble,” Ai reassures. “I was just walking down the beach and she started talking to me.” He laughs to himself. “She said I looked lonely. She’s quite sweet, actually.”  
  
“Oh, mind if I walk with you, then?” He adjusts Suzume in his hold. “It’ll make her fall asleep quicker, plus it’s nice to know who you work with, right?” _Heh, smooth like butter._  
  
Ai is stunned for a moment before beaming in his own quiet way. “Yes, I would like that very much.”  
  
Momotarou goes to follow him toward the shore and Nakagawa and Tomo start to call after him, but Momotarou sends them prayer hands, his eyes promising to do their homework for a month when school starts back if only they’ll let him have this. Nakagawa and Tomo raise their brows at each other before shrugging with twin smirks and getting back to work.   
  
Momotarou leaves his flip flops and the waves roll over their bare feet, erasing their prints in the sand. Ai drinks in the festival, entranced by the lights, the laughter, the smells. Curiously, Momotarou asks, “Have you ever been to a festival?”  
  
Ai shakes his head. “No, I usually enjoy these sorts of things from afar.” He blushes and Momotarou almost stumbles. “I get nervous around people easily.”  
  
“Ah, I get that.” Momotarou nods and pets Suzume’s hair as she snores. “Did you move here since school is starting soon?”  
  
Ai’s smile crinkles around a wince. _God, too cute._ “My parents thought this was a good place for me to be.”  
  
“Oh, neat! What’re they like?”  
  
Ai smiles a little more openly. “They love me very much. My mother and I garden a lot and my father has this sort of…” He breathes a laugh. “Dark humor, I suppose.”  
  
“Ha, that’s cool,” Momotarou says. “Both of my parents are from here. My dad’s a boat mechanic and my mom handles the front desk at his shop. They had to work long hours when they first started their business, so that’s how I learned to cook for myself. Started working at Trident’s Point a few summers ago just to get enough money for this game I wanted, but then I met Asahi and everyone else and they made me actually _like_ work, so I stayed.”  
  
Ai seems entranced by such a simple story. “That sounds so nice…”  
  
Momotarou’s voice warms. “Yeah, everyone’s pretty cool. I think you’ll like it once you get to know people! You work with Nao-senpai in the gift shop, right? He seems chill.”  
  
Ai blinks. “… ‘chill’?”  
  
“Yeah,” Momotarou shrugs. “He’s got a scary smile but he likes my crab cakes, so I think we’re straight.” His terminology throws Ai into a reeling hell of confusion, but he just smiles and nods along. “What’s your favorite food?”  
  
Ai chews his lip in thought. “Stripped bass?”  
  
Momotarou nearly flies apart with excitement. He _knew_ they were soulmates! “Mine too! I’ll bring you some on your lunch break tomorrow.”  
  
Ai blushes, caught between interest and politeness. “Oh, you don’t have to do that…”  
  
“Nah, it’s cool,” Momotarou laughs. “I’d rather hang out with you than anyone in the kitchen. Asahi usually goes to the boat warehouse to make out with Kisumi and the older chefs just argue about politics. Normally, I just eat alone.”   
  
Ai looks at him with wide-eyed sadness before he smiles, eyes crinkling with it. “I’d love to eat with you.”  
  
“Great,” Momotarou breathes, losing his voice somewhere in his throat. His mind snaps back to attention. “How do you like it cooked?”  
  
“I don’t,” Ai says without thinking, face scrunched like he doesn’t understand.  
  
Momotarou’s brows race for his hairline. “You mean… raw?”  
  
Ai’s face floods with color. “However you like it will be perfect for me.”  
  
Momotarou shrugs with a nod. “Okay.” He nudges Ai’s shoulder to meet his anxious gaze. “I just don’t want you to get sick, is all. We humans might be at the top of the food chain –” Ai arches a brow, gaze falling flat with a pitying smirk. “— but if we eat undercooked meat, it could put us in the hospital, you know?”  
  
Ai laughs under his breath, mumbling, _“Delicate.”_  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Nothing! Oh, watch out for –” He yanks Momotarou to the side with a surprising amount of strength, pulling him away from the oncoming wave. It rolls up the sand and through the murky water, a tiny pair of eyes flash yellow in the festival lights. Momotarou turns his disbelieving stare to Ai, who smiles sheepishly. “Catshark.”  
  
“Jesus, that thing could have eaten me!”  
  
Ai hides a giggle behind his hand. “No, they’re quite small. They’re not very aggressive, but I’d probably bite you too if you stepped on me.”  
  
“Oh, really?” Momotarou wishes he didn’t sound so intrigued. Ai laughs again and shoves him down the beach to continue their walk.

* * *

An old Buick with two tires already in the grave parks in a sea of vehicles crammed together in a grocery store lot by the festival. The car belonged to Asahi’s grandfather, which is _not_ something Kisumi wants to think about as they clamor into the backseat, mouths open to gasp through desperate kisses, hands frantic under shirts. The crash of ocean waves melds with Lana Del Ray’s crooning vocals to a sensual baseline from the radio and the night is stained like blue roses, lush with a honeyed drip of summer that feels like it will last forever.  
  
Kisumi straddles Asahi and rips his boyfriend’s shirt off, then he surges against his mouth, needy hands groping his chest and running down his abdomen to tease the sensitive place between navel and cock. Asahi’s fingers shake as he unbuttons Kisumi’s pastel shirt, too impatient to take it off entirely. His fingers climb the arch of his spine and hug Kisumi’s pretty waist, shaping the flare of his hips, just touching, just enjoying how soft his skin is. Asahi’s brand of endearment is addicting because it never falters; he’s so earnest in the pleasure he gives. Asahi can have Kisumi coming for the fourth time in a single night and he’ll still clutch Kisumi’s face through every wave of sweet agony, holding steady even when Kisumi sobs his pleasure.  
  
Kisumi licks into the lemony-mint taste of Asahi’s mouth, living for how the roll of their tongues turns his inhales into gasps. They don’t even remember to kick their shoes away, barely getting Kisumi’s shorts off one leg so Asahi’s hand can sneak between his thighs. Good thing they’ve had enough car romps to start leaving condoms and lube in the glove box because Kisumi would set the ocean on fire with sexual frustration if they had to stop for anything.  
  
When he _finally_ sinks down on Asahi’s cock, Kisumi laughs a moan, eyes rolling back at how fucking _perfect_ it is. Their bodies startle before recognizing each other and Kisumi rolls into Asahi’s abs, leaning into the hard plane, their stomachs clinging with sweat. Chills erupt as Asahi breathes heat into the shell of his ear. “God, you feel good,” he rasps, arms hugging him close. Asahi pecks a line of kisses down his cheekbone. “You okay, baby?”  
  
“Mm, yeah,” Kisumi sighs, hips circling, waist winding. “Don’t stop.”  
  
A hot, wet tongue finds Kisumi’s chest in the dark, gliding all the way up his throat to his mouth, and Kisumi seizes Asahi’s jaw with a playful bite to his lip. Kisumi braces a hand against the car roof when Asahi languidly fucks his hips up, teasing deeper with a breathless smirk. Kisumi drags him into a kiss that’s shaped by their smiles and kneads Asahi’s scalp, combing through his hair. He grinds down, pleading for more with filthy endearments that kick Asahi’s ass into gear, and he vigorously lurches into him until Kisumi swears he can _taste_ it. Asahi is attentive at every moment, eyes drinking it up as Kisumi’s face twists, hands everywhere, cradling his jaw, cooing at all of his whimpers.  
  
When his body ripples around Asahi’s shaft with an orgasm, Kisumi throws his face to the sky and his eyes surge with light – he shoves Asahi’s face into his chest to hide it. His body seizes Asahi’s cock in a ruthless clutch of spiraling muscle and Asahi pumps Kisumi’s dick until he’s hunching with over-sensitivity, needing pause and needing _more_ at the same time. The gratification of Kisumi’s pleasure is what makes Asahi dig the back of his head into the seat, throat clenching with gritted teeth when release burns the world black.   
  
Afterward, Kisumi lies across the backseat with Asahi sprawled between his legs, one of Kisumi’s feet caught in the slit of the open window. Asahi dozes in the humidity left behind by their joining and Kisumi rolls his ankle in the ocean breeze outside, body languid and damp with cooling sweat. Kisumi plays with Asahi’s hair and stares up at the car roof, eyes darting with conflict. He tries to swallow his voice but the words press at his throat, filling his mouth with the acidic burn of fear.  
  
“Your heart’s beatin’ fast,” Asahi muffles against his chest, snuggling closer.  
  
Kisumi smiles into his hair, pecking him there. “I can’t help it. You’re so cute.”  
  
Asahi looks up, tucking his chin against Kisumi’s chest with a handsome grin. “You’re cuter.”  
  
“Won’t argue with that,” he says with a pretentious sigh, making Asahi chuckle before their grins mesh together.  Kisumi lays back, tucking an arm under his head, letting Asahi’s body heat and weight wash over him. “What do you think about secrets?”  
  
Asahi props an arm up on Kisumi’s chest to comfortably rest his chin against his fist. One thing Kisumi particularly adores about him is that Asahi can bounce between topics like nobody else, probably because his mind goes in all directions as it is. “I guess they’re scary,” he mumbles. “Like, conceptually. But not all secrets are bad, I guess.”  
  
“When have you ever heard a good secret?”  
  
Asahi scoffs. “The secret ingredient to Trident’s Point’s famous hot sauce, duh.”  
  
Kisumi’s voice deepens with endearment. “That’s only a good secret because you know it.”  
  
“And your point?” He raises his brows with exaggeration.  
  
Kisumi thunks his head back onto the seat, smiling in defeat. Asahi shimmies up his body to level their faces. “Why’d you ask?” He traces the plane of Kisumi’s cheekbone with a nuzzle of his nose, teasing, “Have you been faking it this whole time? Is that what you’re trying to say?”  
  
Kisumi rolls his eyes. “Who even cares enough to fake it, honestly?”  
  
“Aw, you wouldn’t fake an orgasm for me?”  
  
“I don’t have to fake it with you.” Kisumi mushes his cheeks to smack a kiss against his lips, then smooths out his face with his thumbs. “It’s real with you. All of it.”  
  
Asahi’s brow twitches in question, expression faltering with severity. Kisumi’s ears ring in the quiet and he stiffens.  
  
They startle when Asahi’s cell phone rings to life but the tension holds firm as he gropes his pocket for it. Asahi sits up and Kisumi’s does the same, fidgeting with a rare bout of self-consciousness. He doesn’t think it can get any worse until Asahi answers, “Oh, hey, Mom.”  
  
His skin prickles hotly. Behind his lips, he rolls his tongue over his fangs in a habitual gesture of irritation before he retracts them. Kisumi never once held it against Asahi for keeping quiet about his sexuality with his mother – it might make Kisumi’s heart break ever so quietly, but that just made him care for Asahi more. He knows a thing or two about living a double life. But he still hates Asahi’s mother for making him so nervous about something that should not even matter. Does this bitch not realize that he already has an anxiety disorder he _suffers_ with every single day? For fuck’s sake, Kisumi pities humans for one too many reasons, but their confusing family dynamics are one shining example. He misses his moms.   
  
Asahi mumbles, “Uh, yeah, I’m still at the festival. Just hanging out and stuff.” He glances at Kisumi, shoulders hunched with self-loathing, and Kisumi dives for his hand to squeeze it. Asahi smiles at him sadly before his mother’s words make him tense. “What? No, why would I lie about that?”  
  
His fingers shake in Kisumi’s hold.  
  
Asahi scoffs with too much exaggeration for it to be taken as truth. “We’re literally just sitting in my car, Mom. I don’t know what you’re even talking –”  
  
What she says next makes Asahi freeze to the bone and Kisumi’s ears strain to hear. When he does, his breath punches out of him.  
  
_“Are you with a boy, Asahi?”  
  
Just lie, _ Kisumi’s eyes frantically tell him. _Lie, you can lie about me forever, I don’t care, all I want you –  
  
_ But this isn’t Kisumi’s choice to make and this isn’t his crossroad. Asahi lets out a long jet of air through his nose, looking a thousand years old with wariness, and Kisumi lunges to stop him –  
  
“You know what,” Asahi huffs. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m with a guy.” He leans back, looking more _done_ than Kisumi’s ever seen him.  
  
Kisumi’s too shocked to pay attention to what his mother says next. Asahi’s brows furrow over impassioned eyes as he whispers, “Of course it’s Kisumi.” His voice raws. “And it will fucking _always_ be Kisumi.”  
  
He hangs up on her and tosses the phone against the dashboard, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Then he startles with a thought and scrambles after the phone to make sure the screen isn’t cracked, deflating in relief when he sees that it isn’t. The exchange would be adorable if Kisumi wasn’t sure his heart stopped. Gods, how can a damned Siren feel like he’s drowning?  
  
Slowly, Asahi turns to him, the warmth of his blush radiating through the cab. “Uh.” He clears his throat, punching himself in the chest with an embarrassed grimace. “Sorry, I – I wasn’t planning on saying your name but it just came out and –”  
  
“Asahi, I love you,” Kisumi sobs, actually _sobs,_ and what’s that prosy shit the elders always said? _Mermaids have no tears?_ Yet all at once, Kisumi is _flooded_ with them. He cries the very salt of the sea, babbling incoherently with his heart bursting at the seams. “I’m s-s – _fuck_ – I’m so sorry, I know we’ve never said it but I – I can’t – I can’t stop feeling the way I do, I’ve tried but I can’t, you’re just so  –” His words pitch into gasps and he surely looks like an absolute mess, but Asahi stares at him like he’s made of gold.  
  
His voice ventures in a stupor. “You… you love me?”  
  
“Of course I do!” Kisumi bristles, wet face flashing hot. “How could I not?!”  
  
Asahi’s expression floods with elated disbelief and he holds Kisumi in an embrace, squeezing so much emotion into him. “Jesus, Kisumi, I had no idea,” he breathes, petting through his hair as he continues to cry. Asahi gives a considering wince. “Well, I mean, I thought you _might_ have feelings for me? I really hoped so, but I didn’t know… I didn’t know if you’d be as gone for me as I am for you.” His laugh is dazed and he looks a little high. He frames Kisumi’s face to smother it with kisses. “Please, don’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about. I love you, too.”  
  
Kisumi stares, hands fretting up Asahi’s arms to cup his cheeks. “You do?” His voice is small with timid hope.  
  
Asahi scoffs a laugh, grinning wide and looking so young. “Bubblegum, get with the program. I’ve been crazy about you since your first day at Trident’s Point. Literally, you were all I talked about to the point that Momo almost beat the hell out of me with his spatula.” Asahi beams just for him. “You’re like, genuine to everyone you meet and you make them feel… I don’t know, special. _Really_ important. Heck, you were the new guy and you were reassuring me that having a panic attack during the dinner rush wasn’t even a big deal. You were so cool about it.” He smirks. “Plus the way you cussed out those other chefs for giving me shit about it? I was _so_ hot for you, like, oh my _God…”_  
  
Joy glitters up Kisumi’s insides. “I could already tell that you were the sweetest thing in the world.” He swallows, clutching Asahi’s shirt in earnest. “I want to make you happy, Asahi.”  
  
“You do,” he whispers, shaking his head in a lovestruck haze. “You make me so happy. I don’t feel weird or out-of-place with you. I never thought I’d be able to have that.” Their foreheads rest together with sighs. “I love you.” He nudges him playfully. “And all your secrets.”  
  
Kisumi dies and rebirths all in the same moment. “Promise?”  
  
“Promise.” He bumps their noses together and Kisumi laughs, kissing him hard and burning the shape of his smile to memory.   
  
He leans back to fix Asahi’s collar, fingers stroking the fabric with worry. “What will you do about your mom?”  
  
“Fuck if I know,” Asahi scoffs, shrugging without a care in the world. “I think she’ll come around _eventually,_ but I’ll crash at my sister’s apartment if I have to. But I’m not dealing with any of that tonight. I just want to be with you.”  
  
“… so…”  
  
“Sleepover on the beach?”  
  
_“Yes.”  
  
_ Asahi laughs against his mouth and Kisumi hugs his arms around his neck, straddling him and pressing their hearts together.  
  
They say that there is no force more powerful in the sea than a Siren who falls in love. In this moment, Kisumi believes that with ever fiber of his being. They also say that Sirens can die of a broken heart.  
  
But he’s not just a Siren with Asahi. He’s Kisumi with his ocean of secrets and a soul that sings the praises of his one and only human.

* * *

Makoto and Haruka walk under the pier, shadows dancing as the bridge looms over them. They sit on a rock in the shallows, waves climbing their shins with every push to the shore, warm and relaxing. Seafoam tickles Makoto’s feet as it recedes and Haruka breathes deep with contentment, lips shimmery with mist, hair glittering with it. He snuggles into Makoto’s side and their bodies are supple under damp shirts – they lean into each other heavily as if drunk, locked together like magnets. They’ve barely spoken a word to each other over the past few hours, not daring to break the blissful silence between one another. Makoto can read the emotion in Haruka’s eyes, recognizing the firestorm of blue heat churning in his irises. He’d be happy to sit like this with Haruka forever, translating each sigh with a nod of understanding, but he yearns to know how their bodies could speak to one another, _together.  
  
_ His insides run cold with the anxiety of it all, but his heart’s been beating a mile a minute for days. He’s weak with the need to touch Haruka in ways he never has before; it consumes his every thought and leaves his brain hollow with heat. He’s never felt such anticipation for the unknown, mind on fire with fantasies in the middle of the day. His world is flooded in shades of blue and it’s beautiful, every glimmer of light dazzling with topaz hues, the air ripe with azure orchids even when no flowers are around. His very blood flows like rivers, invigorated and racing for the edge, ready to fall into Haruka.  
  
He does not know that Haruka’s life is rich with evergreen, purified with forest light at every glance Makoto’s way.  
  
Their gazes meet a breath apart from each others mouths, fingers walking together. Makoto begs with everything but his voice, body straining until he finally whispers the words. “Come home with me.”  
  
Haruka stares.  
  
A line of sparks whistles overhead and erupts into the sky, exploding in a roar of golden glitter. More fireworks hurdle toward space and scream apart in multicolor flashes, the cheers of the crowd muffled to Haruka’s ears as he smiles with a nod, ready to fly apart with joy like each and every firework in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up next: bow chika wow wow


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! summer is almost upon us once more and i wanted to thank you all so much for your patience. though my semester is finally over, i still have my jobs and i edited this after a particularly grueling day at work so i apologize if i missed any mistakes! again, thank you a thousand times over for your patience. i hope you enjoy. chapter song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVSBxYjGLPs)!

* * *

  _The water's getting colder, let me in your ocean  
_  
_I've been forward stroking,_ _keep your body open_  
  
_Push the water to the edge and watch it drip_  
  
_Check your footing, don't get caught up in the rip_  
  
_I can take you even though I've never been there_  
  
_The tide's thrashing around me again and again_  
  
_I've been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in_  
  
_I'll swim in you._  
  
**Chase Atlantic: "Swim"**

* * *

They swim back to Makoto’s house.   
  
It’s a wordless agreement, letting Haruka take his hand and guide him into the open water. But more so than the touch of his hand, Makoto is guided to the ocean by the pull of something greater than physical insistence; there’s something tugging at his chest, his blood singing in a choir hum of instinctual, primitive need for the water. His skin is parched for salt and foam, and he feels no fear in this moment; his feet slip off the sandy ocean floor but he feels no need for stability. The waves cradle him, rocking him steadily as he gazes at his Derketo with all the adoration in the world.  
  
Haruka smiles, body rising and falling with the dancing tide. He swims closer, molding himself to Makoto’s frame and losing his fingers in his damp hair. Haruka simply looks at him for a moment, eyes darting to take in all of his features with such endearment that Makoto can scarcely believe it. No words pass between them but Haruka gazes at him questioningly, hesitantly, his eyes whispering, _do you trust me?  
  
_ Makoto just smiles and closes his eyes. _With all that I am.  
  
_ He feels Haruka’s feet stop kicking, the sea dragging at his weight, and Makoto takes a breath before Haruka pulls him under.  
  
Nothing has ever felt so wonderful, enveloped in an ocean that’s warm with life, the waves rolling in pulses like a heartbeat, his ears muffled and roaring all at once. The most human part of himself is terrified, instincts screaming at him to swim _up, up, up_ and thrash for air, but an ancient presence in his heart tells him to remain calm, that there is nothing in the world to fear – this universe of green-blue darkness is as much a part of him as the grass he walked on all his life. Haruka is a comforting presence in the chaos of Makoto’s thoughts, arms hugging his neck and dragging him down further until Makoto knows he’s too far from the surface to swim back up and gasp for air. The foundation of his faith never crumbles, no terror to be found in the wake of so much love for his boyfriend, his everything, his –  
  
_Mate,_ something whispers in his head with a thousand voices. _He is your mate._  
  
When Makoto’s body kicks, chest hiccupping for air, he feels Haruka’s thumbs push at his jaw. Makoto’s eyes flutter open and Haruka’s features are stern, his gaze on Makoto’s mouth as he nods impatiently. Makoto parts his lips and before water can rush in and drown his lungs, Haruka kisses him, sealing over his mouth and breathing into it. Lavender swarms Makoto’s taste buds, flowing down his throat and brimming his lungs with cold air – freezing them. He blinks drowsily; it feels a lot like getting too close to one of the Sirens when they cast a spell, so he assumes that Haruka granted him some sort of enchantment just now.  
  
The Derketo’s eyes glow brighter than ever in the darkness of the sea, his magic at full force. He’s electric in every sense of the word, pores twinkling like pinpoints of stars, raw energy beating off him so hotly that it gives Makoto the subconscious urge to make himself small with submission for such a powerful being. He’s a true deity in the water, his motions far more graceful than that of a mere fish; nothing but a god could be so terrifyingly beautiful.

Makoto watches him, practically shaking in anticipation, and Haruka smiles as he tips his head back. He closes his eyes and serenity flows over him, muscles falling lax, fingers splaying with his palms opened in surrender to the sea. He parts his lips and inhales, neck gills flowing open and bleeding light. His tattoos rise to the surface of his skin, circling his elbows, rounding his biceps, and a line of glowing ink carves down the center of his lower lip. His shirt hem flutters up in the water and Makoto watches his tattoos hug his waist, circling it faster and faster. The light spirals down his legs as scales quiver to life like petals in the wind. Haruka kicks his feet and his tailfin sprouts with his forearm fins, diamond-sharp tips knifing through the water as he brushes off glittery, excess magic.  
  
He looks so much larger in his true form; his tail stretches longer than his legs had. His broad shoulders roll, gills curving with his muscled ribs, abdominals working as he swims closer. His black hair is weightless and when Makoto brushes his bangs aside, he sees that Haruka looks _happy._ This is who he is and he shares it with Makoto with such freedom, knowing that he is loved regardless of what he is and what Makoto isn’t.  
  
Makoto cups the back of his neck to kiss him hard and Haruka hums, his voice so naturally harmonious that it’s like he cannot help but sing when Makoto touches him.  
  
They reach the dock behind Makoto’s house and they’re still kissing when they come up for air, wet and salty and frantic. The ocean is one with the thunderstorm overhead, drinking up the rain and bowing to the wind. Makoto washes up on shore and breathes in the humid night air as rain pelts his face. Haruka’s legs straddle him, clothes drenched and still warm from the sea. His bands cast the loveliest shadows over his blue-fire eyes and Makoto looks up at him, jerking back when green light shimmers across Haruka’s face. He realizes with a start that his own eyes are glowing before they fade back to normal. Haruka doesn’t share his disbelief as he cups Makoto’s face in adoring pride, brows high in an expression of earth-shattering joy.  
  
Over the thunder, Makoto asks, “Did you cast a spell on me? In the water?”  
  
Haruka’s thumbs circle the rise of his cheeks. “Spells don’t make your eyes glow, Makoto.” He traces Makoto’s lips, gazing down at his mouth with eyes half-lidded. “Only Derketo have such eyes.”  
  
Raindrops trace the planes of Haruka’s face and all Makoto can do is stare – he gives a laugh, feeling high and shocked and found. Haruka keeps his gaze trained on Makoto’s lips, cheeks flushing pink when Makoto reaches up to brush sand away from Haruka’s temple. He accidently leaves a trail of dark grains in his wake, not realizing he’s covered in sand as well; the sea still clings to them even on dry land.  
  
He cradles Haruka’s face as the warm summer rain washes over them, the night smelling of plum dahlias in the moonlight, sweet and dark with a exquisite sort of intimacy. Makoto touches his face with endearing gentleness and leans forward to kiss each corner of Haruka’s mouth, then his top lip and the lower one. He pulls back but Haruka chases after him, whispering frantic, foreign words of need and love and desperation against Makoto’s mouth, sandy fingers making a mess of his hair.  
  
They stand up and hurry through the grass, the flash of lightning turning the forest into a world of black and white silhouettes. The damp soil is invigorating under their bare feet, kisses tasting like the salt of the sea, the earthy rain, and their honey joy. They make it to the back porch with their arms locked around one another, the brush of their tongues hitting Makoto like a punch to the gut. The rain washes the sand and mud from their feet; droplets tickle down the back of Makoto’s neck and Haruka’s hair is still so soft even when wet, so easy for Makoto to lose his fingers in. Haruka surrenders to every one of his kisses, tipping his head up as he sways on his tiptoes in Makoto’s embrace.  
  
They scramble through the back door and Makoto finds his lips once more in the darkness of the house. He feels Haruka’s smile, hears his gasping laugh when the boy jumps into his arms and hugs Makoto’s waist with his legs. Makoto isn’t afraid of touching his thighs this time around, eager to run his fingers over Haruka’s shorts to feel the flexing muscles. He sweeps a hand under Haruka’s shirt and revels in his naked skin, so firm yet soft and _warm._ Haruka cups the sides of his neck and uses his thumbs to tip Makoto’s head back, suckling his lower lip and pecking along his top one, kissing at his teeth, tongue frantic to find Makoto’s.  
  
Makoto rolls their tongues together and Haruka’s hips jerk, breath stuttering as his nails shoot deeper into Makoto’s neck. Their tongues meet again and everything is suddenly a dozen times more intense, their pulses beating faster, harder, skin flushed with sweat in a matter of seconds. Every touch falls heavier, fingers squeezing deeper into skin, kisses bruising and wet.  
  
Their foreheads rest together as they pant for breath, their harsh exhales damp with heat. Haruka looks wrecked, his hair a mess from Makoto’s hands, shirt askew, legs trembling around Makoto’s hips. His mouth looks thoroughly kissed, puffy and dark, and since Makoto’s not thinking too clearly, he can’t help but sigh, “You’re so pretty.”  
  
Haruka startles a blush and knocks his arm _._ “Don’t be weird,” he nearly whines, nuzzling his face into Makoto’s neck.  
  
“But you are,” Makoto chuckles. He nudges Haruka’s face up and pecks his temple, trailing soft kisses over the arch of his cheekbone, grazing his lips down to the line of his jaw and finding his way back to his mouth. Makoto meshes their lips together, lingering in the gentle pressure and murmuring, “You’re so…” He loses his voice when Haruka rocks his hips, a slow, indulgent movement that almost makes Makoto drop him. He leans back to take a breath but he’s magnetized back to Haruka, needing to touch him with his lips _somewhere,_ and his mouth falls to Haruka’s neck. He feels a shudder roll down Haruka’s body, leaving his fingers all trembly, toes curling where they’ve dug into Makoto’s lower back.  
  
His arms strain and Haruka unravels his legs to stand but he remains just as close, cradling their joined hands between their chests. Haruka’s eyes dart over Makoto’s face before he swallows. “I want you. I really, really do.”  
  
Makoto tenses, not even believing that a boy so beautiful is looking at him like he hung each and every star in the sky. His smile is breathless with happiness. “I want you, too.”  
  
“Yeah, I can tell.” Haruka leans into his crotch with a smirk.  
  
Makoto blushes to the tips of his ears, absently kissing Haruka’s fingers. “You’re – the same way.”  
  
“What, hard? Yes, I am.” He hugs his arms around his neck. “We should do something about it. If you wanna.”   
  
Makoto’s never wanted _anything_ so much, but unlike his boyfriend, he’s still scared shitless. “You sound pretty confident about all this.”  
  
Haruka purses his lips, which are still swollen the loveliest shade of red. “I’m really not. I’ve never done anything like this before, but Derketo are…” His eyes follow the water droplets trailing down Makoto’s throat. “We’re good at trusting our instincts.”  
  
Makoto stiffens in realization. “You’ve never… _ever?”  
  
_ “Is it surprising?” Haruka arches a brow.  
  
“Yeah. Look at you.”  
  
He ducks his head and scrunches his face cutely, making Makoto’s heart melt. “I told you most Derketo weren’t interested in… _me,_ as Haruka. Just as Poseidon’s son.” He rolls his lips in thought. “Everyone thought I was odd because I couldn’t just… mate for fun or whatever. The pressure scared me. The idea of being that close to someone made me uncomfortable.” His eyes flicker up. “Until now.”  
  
“Same.” Makoto brushes his fingers through Haruka’s bangs. “I mean, not that anybody ever even knew that I’m gay, but I always liked the idea of it being – um, special, somehow.”  
  
Haruka tips his head with coy humor. “What’s _special_ to you?”  
  
Makoto trails his hands up the Derketo’s sides, clothes damp and cold at this point. “Everything with you feels special.” Emotions come to life with his memories. “When we hung out the first time, and it was just the two of us, when we sat by that river and you fell asleep…” He shakes his head in a daze. “You didn’t look out of the ordinary at all, but I just kept looking at you like, wow, he looks so peaceful, I want to draw him and I can’t even draw.” He laughs to himself. “Every time I see you, whether we’re sharing snowcones at work or I get to watch you swim in the sea caves, I just keep trying to – like, memorize everything about you. Because I feel like if I ever lost you…” His chest tightens. “If I ever lost you, then the world would go back to being mundane and boring and really shitty. And I’d go back to being boring and miserable. God, I was so miserable, Haruka, living in that city and being too scared to talk to anyone. But here in Iwatobi with you, at the Point with everyone else – I feel like I’m _myself_ for the first time in my life and I feel like I –” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I feel like I _belong.”_    
  
Haruka’s eyes blink wide, tears shining at the corners. “Makoto, you do belong.” He scrambles for Makoto’s hand and presses it flat over his heart. “You belong _right here.”_ Haruka’s quivering fingers climb his chest to fist his shirt. “Please, _please,_ let me show you it’s true.”  
  
Makoto nods without even thinking and Haruka surges up to kiss him. It’s a miracle they climb the stairs without tripping, and they stumble into Makoto’s room with hands scrambling under shirts. They left their shoes on the shore back at the pier, so they fall onto his bed still kissing. Haruka lies back, thighs parting and welcoming Makoto between his legs as he hugs him close. Makoto’s breath hitches when he feels Haruka’s hardness press against his thigh through their pants, his heart fluttering with nervous anticipation. Haruka grabs at the sheets as Makoto brushes kisses along his collarbone, smearing his lips all over his throat. Hands roam under Makoto’s shirt in soft, curious brushes before Haruka tugs the shirt over his head with vigor. Makoto sits back on his heels to help take it off and when the shirt is gone, Haruka stares at his naked chest, running eager hands down Makoto’s torso. “Strong,” he whispers, hands mystified on his skin.  
  
Makoto flushes with pride, ducking his head with a shy smile. Gently imploring, he slips his fingers under Haruka’s shirt. He lifts his arms and Makoto pulls it off slowly, hands briefly losing their way as he explores the curves of the Derketo’s waist. When the shirt is off, a fresh surge of warmth blooms through him; he’s seen Haruka topless a hundred times by now, but the weight of this moment makes the experience all the more intense. His skin is iridescent like a pearl with blushing hues of lavender and powder blue flaring in the lamp light. “I can’t believe you’re real,” Makoto breathes, fingertips tracing the line of a prominent vein down Haruka’s arm. Under Makoto’s hands, the Derketo’s tattoos burn back to life, following his touch in dancing swirls of light. Makoto reaches up and when he drags a thumb down the center of Haruka’s lower lip, the glowing line at the center pulses to life. Haruka trails kisses down his thumb, smearing his lips over Makoto’s palm as he looks up through his lashes.  
  
There’s so much Makoto wants to say; pointless things that he _needs_ to tell Haruka, even if they’re just absent comments about the lovely sweep of his hair or the entrancing shade of his eyes in these shadows. He wants to press whispers against his chest, over his heart, and so he does. Makoto’s lips play at his collarbones, pecking the space in the middle before falling to the left of his chest. “I love you _so much,_ Haruka.”  
  
He kisses Haruka there and a shock of heat flutters against his mouth, tingling in a muted electrical current against his lips. Makoto’s eyes blink open and he cranes back at the glow emitting from Haruka’s heart, a golden beacon trapped behind his skin like the sun itself lives in his core.  
  
Haruka never looks away from Makoto’s expression. “Sorry,” he mumbles, voice hushed in the intimate quiet. “I can’t control it right now, when you’re –” Makoto hears his throat click as he swallows.  
  
Hesitantly, he presses a curious hand against Haruka’s chest to watch the light play through his fingers. He breathes, “What is it?”  
  
“My soul.”  
  
Makoto’s hand jerks back like he’s touched something terribly personal and off-limits, but Haruka just smiles fondly. “It already belongs to you; you have every right to touch it.”  
  
After another reassuring nod, Makoto presses his palm flat over Haruka’s heart. The light surges brighter with joy and a singing vibration hums under Haruka’s skin. Makoto can admit that the situation is odd and beautiful at the same time. “It’s so… warm.” His shoulders drop. “I wish I could show you mine somehow.”  
  
Haruka takes his hand to peck his wrist before tangling their fingers together. Not-so-subtly, he pulls Makoto forward. On top of him. “There’s plenty of other things you can show me tonight.”  
  
Makoto gets dizzy with the heat of his blush and muffles Haruka’s laugh with his lips. Haruka falls onto his back, their kisses wet and frantic, barely pausing long enough to take off their shorts.  
  
When they’re both naked, Makoto’s beyond thankful for the quilt that slid over them during their jostling. He wants to see all of Haruka badly, but since this is their first time, he isn’t feeling very confident about his own body. But _feeling_ Haruka, his thighs parted for Makoto’s hips like they were made to rest between them – it’s _blindingly_ good. The world under the quilt is damp with sticky warmth, their skin slick with sweat, bodies arching and rolling to chase the new sensation they’ve found in one another.  
  
Against Makoto’s throat, Haruka pants, “Do you have – stuff?”  
  
It takes him a second, given that his brain is clouded over and he feels so drunk on Haruka that his speech slurs. “Huh? What stuff?”  
  
Haruka leans back to give him a look and Makoto jolts in realization, every drop of blood rushing to his face. “Oh, _oh.”_ Horror dawns in his eyes. “Oh _no..._ Haruka, I don’t.” He’s never been so let down in his life because they can’t just _stop_ at this point, how are they going to –  
  
“It’s okay.” Haruka reaches over to grab his shorts off the floor and he pulls a little bottle of lube out of his back pocket. “I thought about throwing Kisumi to the sharks when I noticed he snuck this into my pocket early this evening, but now I’m reconsidering.”  
  
Curiously, Makoto mumbles, “You don’t – I mean…” Haruka lifts a brow and Makoto glances away, picking at the quilt. “I wasn’t sure if your kind… _had_ that kind of thing…” He nods at the bottle. “Like, naturally, or whatever?”  
  
Haruka blinks once, twice. “You mean, can my body naturally lubricate itself? No, Derketo aren’t like the werewolves.”  
  
And Makoto just shakes his head because _that’s_ a whole new set of questions for another day. He blinks down at the lubricant and reaches for it with a shaky hand. Every second proves they’re getting closer and closer to something they’ve wanted for so long, and he can barely comprehend that it’s actually happening, the weight of the bottle grounding him in the moment. “You – you, um, want me to – do it to you?”  
  
Haruka lies back, wholly comfortable with his nakedness under Makoto’s gaze, though his smile is one of timid hope. “If you don’t mind.”  
  
Makoto scoffs a laugh, breaking the tension. “Not hardly.”  
  
Dipping his coated fingers between Haruka’s legs, moving his hand blindly – Makoto can’t dare look down to see what he’s doing because just _feeling_ it is almost too intimate to bear. He feels like he’s going to pass out, touching Haruka where nobody else ever has; being _inside_ of another person makes him feel an immense weight of responsibility, and he’s desperate to make his boyfriend feel good, or at the very least, not hurt him. But Haruka takes to it, well, like a fish to water for lack of a better analogy, whatever, Makoto’s not really thinking clearly at the moment. The newness of it all is difficult to maneuver, but he feels like he’s learning. Every clench of Haruka’s face, each unravelling of his features teaches Makoto how to twist his fingers in the bruising tightness of his body.  
  
Curiously, Makoto curls his fingers and all at once, Haruka seizes and his eyes surge so brightly that Makoto worries they’ll burn right out of his head. The realization of what just happened hits him like a punch in the gut. “Oh, was that your –” He huffs a breath, feeling a bit high. “I didn’t even know if that was actually a thing.”  
  
“It’s a thing,” Haruka gasps, nails digging into Makoto’s biceps. _“Fuck,_ it’s a thing, keep going –”  
  
Makoto does it again and Haruka hitches a sob, looking like he’s in pain but pulling Makoto closer still. Makoto hasn’t even been touched between the legs yet and he already feels like the coil in his gut is about to snap. Haruka pats his chest quickly, heaving to catch his breath. “I’m ready, that’s enough.”  
  
“Okay,” Makoto whispers, taking his hand back but he doesn’t exactly know what to do at this point. He decides to follow what feels good, gently lying over Haruka to peck at his swollen lower lip. Haruka lurches up frantically and Makoto’s blood startles quicker, their limbs moving and shifting to get impossibly closer. Legs embrace his hips as arms hug his neck. Logic makes one last grab at his brain and Makoto pulls back, skin flushed hot with sweat. “Don’t we have to use a condom?”  
  
“No need,” Haruka pants. “I mean, we’ve never been with anyone else but I can’t get STIs either.” His mouth quirks, eyes rolling closed as he tries to stay grounded to the earth. “Godly perks.”  
  
“Sounds nice,” Makoto laughs, kissing at his adorable mouth.  
  
Haruka pauses, looking horribly guilty. “Are you – you know, ready?” He glances down but he can’t see much since they’re under the covers. “I didn’t even touch you, sorry. I could suck you really quick if you want.”  
  
Makoto almost comes at the mere thought, so he quickly shakes his head, his voice cracking a few octaves higher. “N-No, that’s fine, I’m ready.” He takes a steadying breath. “I’m ready.”  
  
They lie together, wholly embraced as their foreheads rests together. No space is between them and nobody could pull them apart, not ever – Makoto knows it in his very soul. Haruka cups his face, thumbs roaming as his eyes take in Makoto’s features. The world is quiet in this moment, their hearts pressed together as their pulses race in tandem.  
  
“Go ahead,” Haruka whispers, smiling breathlessly. “I’ve waited my whole life for you.”  
  
His words spur Makoto’s body impossibly closer, until they’re no longer two separate beings. He pushes between Haruka’s legs into a space so hot and wet and tight that he realizes fairly quickly he’s going to have to force his way in.  
  
One timid roll of his hips makes Haruka let out a flat, “Ow.”  
  
Makoto moves to pull away but Haruka’s fingers dig into his back, keeping him in place. “Stay,” he gasps. “Just… just go slow.”  
  
Makoto does as he’s told, firmly keeping a grip on Haruka’s hand. He intertwines their fingers and lays Haruka’s arm over his head on the bed, their limbs shifting to adjust better. He buries his face in Haruka’s neck to smother it with kisses and Haruka gladly bears his throat for the distraction. Once Makoto’s inside as far as he can go, he feels the physical sensation of his brain _evaporating_ , his instincts laid bare and telling him to _move._ But he holds still and patient, heart soaring at this wonderful sort of embrace, so special, belonging only to him and Haruka.  
  
After a minute, Haruka shifts his hips, testing, and Makoto closes his eyes before they can cross from the pleasure. Haruka mewls and jerks his hips, searching. His legs tighten around Makoto and he quickly gets the hint, settling so deep inside that Haruka shakes. Makoto pushes into him with gentle thrusts, their muscles seizing harder with each inch deeper. The Derketo’s hand trembles in his own, their bodies rocking together without their control, climbing toward something so unknown but so _destined.  
  
_ It feels like a dream, details blurring together until all he knows is gasps and needy moans, their mouths brushing together not to kiss but to just revel in the closeness. It’s as if Makoto’s drunk out of his mind, yet he’s never been so present in his entire life. He feels like he’s never been _alive_ until now, like his own body never found it’s true purpose until it was connected with Haruka’s.  
  
Sweat rolls down the valley of Makoto’s spine as Haruka fists his damp hair. Haruka’s body shudders underneath him, never stilling, whining and arching up for more, more, more. Makoto’s mind is completely blank of everything other than _Haruka –_ Haruka, a god that bows into Makoto’s body, whimpering in his ear, tongue rolling on the syllables of his native language like he’s singing and laughing out moans and so in love.  
  
Haruka lets the pleasure sweep him away without fear, languid in his orgasm. He rolls his hips like his connection with Makoto is the most natural sensation, and relaxation washes over his face, eyes closed in bliss. He sighs Makoto’s name, skin glowing in warm divinity, arms stretching over his head in submission to the pleasure Makoto gives him.  
  
Makoto’s peak hits him like a flood, dragging him down, pulling him under. The fact that it feels like drowning is poetic justice; Haruka guides Makoto down, anchoring him in a fierce embrace and grounding him in a kiss that whispers _trust me, I’ve got you, I’ve got you forever, let go –_  
  
Makoto closes his eyes and drowns.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI MISSED YOU PLEASE ENJOY
> 
> and happy season three~! 
> 
> **warning:** graphic fight scenes ahead. happy chapter ending, i promise.

* * *

 The morning after the festival, Sousuke wakes to a hangover and the sound of water rushing in his ears.  
  
His hands grope the surface he’s lying on. It’s not his bed; sand runs through his fingers and a shocking burst of cold water rolls over his feet. Sousuke bolts upright, squinting in the blazing sunlight as the ocean slowly materializes before him. He numbly watches the waves lap at his feet, mind struggling to comprehend the sight.  
  
He’s at the beach behind his house. How the fuck did he get to the ocean? He might have been plastered last night but he distinctly remembers making it back home with Rin. He looks down his shirt and sees his chest bruised over with hickies, further proving his theory as fact.  
  
“The hell are you doing out here?”  
  
Sousuke looks over his shoulder just as Rin flops down in the sand beside him, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair a tangled mess from Sousuke’s hands last night. Rin offers him a mug of coffee and a peck good morning. “You freakin’ out about the competition today or something?”  
  
Sousuke looks down at his mug. “I guess so,” he mumbles, not finding any other explanation for his surroundings. “I don’t remember coming out here, though.”  
  
Rin shrugs, taking a sip of his own coffee with two aspirins for the hangover. “It _is_ kinda weird – you’re not the type of drunk to go wandering off. Leaving me alone in bed. _Again.”_  
  
Sousuke chuckles, smothering the ticklish part of Rin’s neck with kisses. “Sorry.”  
  
Rin scoffs, mumbling to himself, “He says he’s _sorry.”_ But then he smiles as Sousuke nuzzles their faces together. It’s an odd gesture, one that Sousuke’s never used on him, but it makes Rin feel safe and cared for. “We gotta get to work, babe.”  
  
_“You_ have to get to work,” Sousuke reminds him. “I have the day off for the competition.”  
  
“Yeah, but _you_ are the one with the vehicle, and _I’m_ the neglected boyfriend who wants a drive-thru bagel and road head to make up for all this abandonment, so get your ass up, let’s go.”  
  
Sousuke laughs as he stands up and stretches, pleasantly wiggling his toes through the sand. “Thought I’d go for a swim first.” Rin groans to the sky and Sousuke swats his ass. “We’ve got like, thirty minutes before we have to leave, I’ll be quick. You can come with, if you want.”  
  
Rin whines, “I was gonna take a shower and –”  
  
Sousuke reaches back to take his shirt off and grins smugly as Rin stares at his naked chest. “God,” Rin scoffs, already taking off his own shirt. “You dick, you never play fair.”  
  
“I learned from you.”  
  
Sousuke takes his hands and kisses his palms, smiling against his wrist. But then Rin smirks and shoves him, throwing Sousuke off balance and sending him crashing into the waves.  
  
Sousuke splutters back to the surface and Rin cackles, swimming over to hug his arms around Sousuke’s neck. Rin pecks his forehead. “Sorry.”  
  
“No, you’re not.”  
  
“Not really,” he sighs, their bodies molding to each other so naturally – Sousuke’s arms go around Rin’s waist as Rin’s legs embrace his hips, so comfortable that they could almost fall back asleep in the push and pull of waves. Rin studies him with half-lidded eyes. “You should probably practice holding your breath underwater.” He leans closer. “You know. For the competition.”  
  
Sousuke cups the back of his neck to pull him in. “Right.” He meshes their smiles together before they drop beneath the water, lost to a world of muffled roaring as Rin parts his lips against his. 

* * *

Makoto hears birds through the open window, the curtains flowing as an ocean breeze sinks into his lungs. He feels warm in a way he never has before – not in a physical sense, but so emotionally full of light and comfort that he can scarcely believe such a feeling even exists. He briefly wonders if he’s dreaming, but then Haru snuggles deeper into the circle of his arms, his cheek nestled against Makoto’s heart with his soft hair tickling the underside of his jaw. Their bodies are tangled in sheets and quilts, wrapping them together so perfectly that Makoto doesn’t know where his body ends and Haruka’s begins.  
  
He stares up at the ceiling with a breath of disbelief because nothing has ever felt so perfect. He presses kisses against Haruka’s hair, brows furrowed in reverence for the creature in his arms. Creature is the right word in this moment; no human could ever sleep so beautifully. Thank goodness Makoto’s dad had a date last night and still isn’t home this morning – Makoto isn’t going to be able to go very long without needing to worship Haruka’s body again.  
  
Haruka hums, no – _purrs._ It’s not a rumbling thing, but high and sweet. It vibrates in his throat and slides all through his limbs, his skin giving a slight shake against Makoto’s. Makoto runs his hands down Haruka’s naked back, teasing a finger up the valley of his spine to trace the ridges of his shoulder blades. Haruka purrs louder and Makoto grins.  
  
He kisses the Derketo a few more times just because, peppering one at his temple, dipping lower to brush the corner of Haruka’s mouth. Haruka rolls over onto his back in his sleep, face twitching more awake for just a second before his features fall lax once more. Makoto hovers over him and can’t stop himself from going to his neck, not properly kissing him but just trailing his lips down the column of his pretty throat. With his lips, he traces the wings of Haruka’s collarbones and a startling warmth erupts under his mouth. Makoto blinks his eyes open and golden light sears him before he adjusts.  
  
It’s almost disturbing, looking at someone’s soul, no matter how much Haruka insisted it was perfectly fine. Maybe it is for Derketo, but Makoto can’t help but feel nervous and – _unworthy.  
  
_ Never the less, he tries, hovering a hand over Haruka’s chest to let the rays of light play through his fingers. Haruka’s voice is rumbling in the morning, and Makoto isn’t prepared to be so attacked by it. “Having fun?”  
  
Makoto startles, jerking his hand away before Haruka presses it firmly over his chest and yanking Makoto’s body on top of him in the process. “It’s okay.” Haruka’s eyes are half-lidded, his lips still bruised from last night’s kisses, hair all disheveled. “Like I said, it’s yours.”  
  
Makoto’s toes curl at that. He leans down and gently, so gently, presses his mouth to the center of Haruka’s chest. He can _taste_ the warmth, taste buds flooding with salt and something like honey, not precisely sweet but perfectly Haruka. The Derketo tips his head back into the pillows with a sigh and his soul retreats, seeming satisfied.  
  
Makoto smiles, snuggling up over Haruka and looking down at him with his bangs hanging down, blurring at the corners of his vision. “Good morning,” he beams, pecking Haruka on the nose. “I love you.”  
  
He grins heavily with languidness, knees hitching up so his thighs loosely hug Makoto’s waist. He tangles his fingers in Makoto’s hair, smoothing down his throat and all over his shoulders, leaving chills in his wake. “I love you more.”  
  
“No, you don’t,” Makoto says playfully, meshing their lips together – it’s dry and kind of chapped and out of this world addictive. “I love you so much, it’s like –” He struggles to think straight as he nips at Haruka’s ear and feels nails teasing deeper into his back. “It’s like an ocean.”  
  
“Cliché, but thank you.”  
  
Makoto laughs against his skin and lets Haruka mesh his cheeks to drag his face back up, their mouths closing together with an innocent sort of intimateness. Every brush of the Derketo’s fingers feels so raw now, after last night. Every touch hits Makoto like a bolt of lightning. Haruka hugs him around the middle and they just lay together, bodies pressed together in a way that would have mortified Makoto just a few hours ago. It still kind of does and he still has the urge to flinch away and cover himself, but he feels so lazy and content in Haruka’s arms that he doesn’t move.  
  
Haruka lifts his brows and says, “I’ve actually swam the entire ocean so I don’t know if you can actually say you love me that much.” But he’s smirking and God, it’s gorgeous.  
  
“I’d prove it,” Makoto says without faltering. “I’d swim it all for you.” He threads their fingers together and kisses all down his wrist, his arm, before pinning it over their heads. In the warm, heavy space between their lips, he whispers, “I’d go with you.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes surge a little brighter before dimming and that makes Makoto mumble, “I’d go anywhere with you, Haruka.” He sounds so passionate that his face prickles hotly, and he ducks his head to grin sheepishly. “That’s pretty human of me to say, isn’t it?” _Dumb._  
  
Haruka grabs the underside of his jaw to level their gazes. “It’s not.” His expression softens as he sweeps a hand up Makoto’s chest. “It’s not. But I’d never ask you to leave everything behind like that.”  
  
“I know.” Makoto dips down to nuzzle their noses together and Haruka leans up into it, fingers tightening around Makoto’s where his hand is still pinned.  
  
Makoto brushes their faces together again and Haruka says, “Do you know what you’re doing?” Makoto frowns in confusion and Haruka smiles. “Nuzzling is a Derketo thing. We do it to show affection.” He sighs as Makoto does it again. “It makes me feel safe.” Haruka steals a kiss and then another, breathing hard between Makoto’s parted lips. “I may not ask you to leave but I might steal you, though.”  
  
Makoto laughs against his mouth. “Isn’t that a Siren thing?”  
  
Haruka leans back with a wet smack of their lips, his mouth pouted into a smile. “I’m the Prince of the Sea. I can do whatever I want and I might start taking advantage of it finally.”  
  
“You already know I wouldn’t mind.” They’re kissing again and Haruka drags him down so their bodies are pressed tightly together, the sheets tangled across their bellies and wrapped around ankles, thighs. The heat is so immense and sticky but Makoto never wants to move.  
  
He gasps when Haruka dips a hand between their legs and starts stroking, circling, teasing his fingers all around the place that makes the room burn black. He meets Makoto’s eyes as he does it, breathing just as hard like his mate’s pleasure is his own. “Again,” Haruka whispers, legs parting to welcome Makoto’s hips, waist winding up against him as his voice pitches higher. “Again, please.”  
  
So they make love again, and it’s just as blinding in the light of day as it was with the moon hanging over them, but Makoto doesn’t have _any_ stamina as much as he wants it – his biceps burn where he’s braced on his forearms to keep his weight off Haruka and his hips feel like a car wreck. Haruka was insatiable last night and Makoto was no better, but they didn’t pass out until 4 AM and it’s 6 right now, and –  
  
Haruka says he’s thinking too hard and _flips_ Makoto before he can take the next breath. He can’t remember how to will air into his lungs as Haruka straddles his hips, reaches behind himself, and rocks down so hard and deep that he throws his face to the ceiling in a speechless shock of pleasure.  
  
Apparently, Haruka has no qualms about being naked right in Makoto’s face, so close that he can see where his pores are darkened by the sheen of his sweat, but Makoto isn’t complaining. Haruka’s thighs clench his waist as he rolls down, fingers trembling where they’re dug into Makoto’s stomach. The sheets are damp around them, the air thick with morning humidity and the smell of sex. Haruka’s teeth grit through a whine. Makoto’s hands are restless on his waist, his ass, pulling him up and down when the Derketo’s strength wavers.  
  
Haruka kisses him hard when Makoto comes, muffling his groan and swallowing every desperate gulp for air. Haruka comes and his body seizes around Makoto so tight and sharp that Makoto peaks _again,_ stretching his throat in surrender to the clamp of Haruka’s teeth in his neck – something deep and instinctual tells him it was a primitive response, something Derketo do to show what’s _theirs,_ and he’d come a third time at that if he wasn’t numb from the inside out.  
  
While they’re floating minutes later, Haruka still has his teeth gripped in Makoto’s skin, and one slight shift tells him that the bite was deeper than he expected because he feels _fangs._ He gasps when they slide out and Haruka wipes his mouth before licking the wound closed – a cool burn sings through Makoto’s veins, a familiar touch of magic. “Sorry,” Haruka whispers, not having it in him to get off Makoto.  
  
He hugs him closer. “It’s okay. Just – startled me.” They drift for a while, eyes closing as their hearts lull to a smoother rhythm. He runs his hands up and down Haruka’s back, kneading into his sore muscles absently. “How do you feel?”  
  
Haruka makes a face. “Wet.”  
  
Makoto winces, guilty. “Yeah, me too. Want to take a shower?”  
  
Haruka looks offended as he snuggles deeper into his chest. “No.”  
  
They jolt when the alarm clock blares to life and Haruka’s hand whips out – the cup on the nightstand tumbles to the floor as the water flies out and takes hold of the alarm clock to slam it against the wall with an explosive crash.  
  
Makoto blinks in the following silence. “Uh. You know we have to go to work.”  
  
Haruka purrs happily as he nuzzles back into Makoto’s shoulder. “Ten more minutes.”  
  
Somewhere in that ten minutes, Makoto kisses him again, a mere brush of their lips that has weak sparks tickling up his spine and _twisting._ Haruka sits up in his lap and Makoto chases his mouth with an aching need pulsing back to life in his core. “Again,” Haruka whispers, begging with his eyes, pleading with the roll of his body.  
  
Makoto would never refuse him. 

* * *

It’s always been difficult for Makoto to focus on work when Haruka is around but after they’ve had sex, keeping his concentration up is an impossible task. He can’t bear the thought of being away from him, but at least the other Derketo seem to understand their frantic need to be touching at all times. When they arrive at Trident’s Point and head down to the hidden dock before opening, the merfolk share knowing glances from the water but don’t speak on it; their brief smirks and raised brows say more than enough.  
  
Aki and Nii seem to be under a similar spell with one another – lost in each other, in their own little world, but they’re injured. They each have a single cut digging down their chests, carving across their hearts, though nobody other than Makoto is alarmed. Oddly enough, Haruka congratulates them.  
  
Makoto finds the reasoning behind the wounds when he goes to Natsuya’s shed for his work schedule. “They bonded last night,” the older boy explains as he shifts through the mess of paperwork on his desk. “Half of Aki’s soul went to Nii and vice versa.”  
  
Makoto chews his lip. “So cutting your chest is part of the… ritual?”  
  
Natsuya blinks up at him. “They didn’t cut themselves; their souls have to physically break through the skin in order to intertwine.” At Makoto’s stunned look, Natsuya soothes, “The pain is worth it.” He pulls down his shirt collar, revealing a thick pink scar over his heart. “Nao has the same mark. We wear them with pride; all mates do.”  
  
Makoto’s thoughts drift. “Haruka showed me his soul. Tried to, anyway.” His chest aches. “I had no idea how to show him mine.”  
  
Natsuya smiles. “I’m sure it was easy for him to imagine what your soul looks like. You wear your heart on your sleeve, after all.” He tosses a water bottle at Makoto, who grunts as he catches it against his chest. “Now, onto more important things, like work.”

* * *

The competition is in a few hours so the Point is a little short-handed sans surfers, but per Nao’s orders, Natsuya puts Makoto and Haruka on the same tasks throughout the day. They try their best to focus, really. When they’re serving on the restaurant balcony, they’re too busy to share more than a few glances at one another and they’re lucky enough to steal a couple of kisses in the kitchen when nobody is looking. It’s miserable. The heat is insufferable, it’s not even 11 AM and customers are already getting drunk as news choppers whirl overhead and blow table cloths straight off the balcony. Makoto feels even worse for Natsuya when he glances over the balcony railing at the docks – telling drunks that they can’t rent out jet skis is not a task Makoto wants.  
  
The crowd is nothing but Hawaiian floral print and skimpy bikinis, the floors grainy with sand as people make their way from the beach to the bar. The place reeks of sunscreen and vodka, smoke billowing from the outdoor ovens as Asahi dresses salads and grills burgers faster than lightning. Momotarou’s arms are already blistered from the stove but he’s laughing, boasting to anyone who will listen about his brother in the surfing competition. His exuberance gives Makoto energy and makes excitement flutter in his chest for the impending race. It’s a beautiful day, the ocean saturated in the deepest blue with a rainbow of beach towels covering the beach. Though people are loud and the ‘60s surf music is blaring, everyone is happy, so he really can’t complain.  
  
He tries to keep up a positive disposition for Haruka, who seems more agitated with the crowd than usual. He’s brisk as ever with customers, his tired eyes glazing over with memories before he snaps back to himself with a blush. Makoto can’t help but flush with pride when he sees it happen.    
  
Rin is serving on the balcony too and he keeps glancing at the beach, where it’s too crowded to make out a single person but he _knows_ Sousuke’s down there at the shore, getting interviewed and waxing his board with the rest of the surfers. Rin looks overheated and stressed out of his mind, so once he drops a tray of mimosas, Makoto and Asahi manhandle him into the breakroom to cool down. Rin tries to insist that he’s fine but Gou sits him back down with a firm hand and sends Makoto and Asahi off with a smile, assuring that she won’t let him up for another thirty minutes. She’ll help him calm down, Makoto’s sure – after all, Sousuke is like a brother to her and her own boyfriend is also in the competition.    
  
Haruka takes over Rin’s tables and it kind of breaks Makoto’s heart because now they can’t brush arms since they’re waiting on two different sections of the restaurant. He heaves a sigh and kicks his foot like a proper brat before hurrying to clean up some tables on the corner deck, which is empty of customers – or so he thought.  
  
The back of his neck tenses and prickles. He looks up to see a woman leaning on the railing, watching him. “Hello,” he says without thought, not sure if she’s a customer waiting for her order or just another tourist lounging at the Point.  
  
The woman doesn’t respond. Though she isn’t doing anything particularly threatening, she’s oddly unnerving. She’s tall for a woman, all long and lean in her white dress with one strap draped over her shoulder. She wears gold bands around her biceps and wrists, her stern face pulled in narrowly, features tight together like a snake’s. Her skin is like glass without a single pore. But her most striking attribute is her hair, swept up in a bun and red as blood, the same color as her eyes, and she’s looking at Makoto like he’s an idiot for not realizing who she is – _what_ she is.  
  
His mind races back to when Rin showed him that book of mythology in the gift shop, explaining the origin of the Zagreus and how Zeus cheated on his wife, the wife that gutted a baby all in the name of vengeance, the wife named –  
  
Oh _fuck._ “Hera,” Makoto breathes.  
  
She smiles, eyes simmering like burning coals _. “Makoto,”_ she purrs, slinking closer to circle him. He stays absolutely still, not even breathing as she studies him. “Enchanted to meet you.” She’s definitely not; she’s mocking him. “You reek of Poseidon’s son: like salt and blueberries and _love.”_ She drags out the word with a disgusted curl of her tongue. Hera huffs a laugh across his throat like the angry heat off a fire, though her tone is bitterly nostalgic. “I almost forgot what that smells like.”  
  
Everything in him _screams_ for help, blood drumming in his ears, heart beating with such terror that he feels faint. He hears a crash from the kitchen, like an armful of plates just dropped without warning, and then he’s snatched to the side. His back slams against the wall as Haruka puts himself between Makoto and the Queen of the Gods.  
  
Haruka’s lips curl over his fangs, his eyes too big for his face as his nails shoot into claws. Hera rolls her eyes at his dramatics but she swaggers backward, taunting yet submissive none the less. _“Kairós dé,_ little prince.”  
  
“What do you want?” he hisses, teeth on edge as he presses his back against Makoto’s chest, ready to take the full blow of Hera’s wrath to protect him.  
  
Hera saunters to the balcony, stretching her arms across the railing with a pretentious sigh. She takes a moment to gaze at the ocean, determination set in the hard lines of her face. “Where is your father?”  
  
At Haruka’s stunned silence, Hera looks over her shoulder impatiently. “I don’t know where he is,” he says, subtly inching Makoto toward the corner so he can make a run for it, but Makoto stays put firmly, refusing to leave him alone. Haruka fumes a sigh and shakes his head to try and think clearly. “I haven’t seen him in years and he’s not yet come for the Derketo migration – I doubt he’ll show up, I haven’t received any word of his arrival.”  
  
Hera says, “Did you know that the other gods have all disappeared without a trace?”  
  
Haruka falters. “They’re _gone?_ Even – even Zeus?”  
  
She scoffs a laugh. _“Always_ Zeus.” Hera yanks a lily from the flower box on the railing and holds it up to the light, then lets the wind snatch it from her grasp. “Gone,” she whispers, watching the lily spiral toward the ocean.  
  
“I don’t see why that has anything to do with me,” Haruka says. “I don’t care. Leave.”  
  
Makoto fists the back of Haruka’s shirt, trying to reign his fury in. Hera turns around with a grand roll of her eyes. “I came to warn you, believe it or not.”  
  
Haruka snaps, “I don’t –”  
  
_“Haruka,”_ Makoto hisses, fisting the back of his shirt desperately. _“Please,_ calm down.”  
  
Haruka works his jaw and squares his shoulders. Hera watches the exchange with a bored look before getting back on track. “Those humans who came here looking for Derketo –”  
  
Alarm shoots up Makoto’s spine. “Blacksand?”  
  
“Yes, you need to watch out for them.”  
  
“We got rid of them,” Haruka says. “They’re gone.”  
  
Hera bristles and her shadow broadens, enveloping her in darkness. Storm clouds churn overhead black as death. “No, they’re _not.”_ She swings a finger out toward the docks, pointing to Natsuya’s boat. “You’re harboring one of them and she needs to be dealt with.” Hera stalks closer and leans down over Haruka, bearing her own set of fangs at him. They drip gold; pure ichor that hisses as it eats at the floorboards. “You want to walk around here like a god? _Then act like one._ Kill as we are made to do.”  
  
Makoto’s brain scrambles to understand, then ice claws down his back. No, oh God, no, _Miho,_ she wants Haruka to _kill Miho.  
  
_ Hera leans impossibly, horribly closer. “If you don’t,” she whispers. “There will be far more blood spilled than hers.”  
  
Haruka meets her gaze without wavering. “You dare threaten the Derketo?”  
  
“Oh, you brave little fool,” she laughs, regal and pitying. “I’m not here to kill anyone, guilty as they might be. As I said, I’m merely here to warn you.” She holds his gaze as she backs off, face alight in perfect serenity and contentment. “I know you love your mate and that you will do what is necessary to protect him, despite your confliction in this moment.”  
  
“You don’t know anything about him,” Makoto snaps, the words flying out with a passion he didn’t realize he had.    
  
Hera snorts. “Love is predictable.” She sighs before flapping her hand. “Oh, Haruka, be a dear – if you do see your father, you know where to find me. Mount Olympus isn’t what it used to be, but…” Her features soften as she smiles to herself, and for the flash of a second she almost looks kind. “It’s home.”  
  
Haruka eyes her suspiciously. “You want to kill my father? You want to kill Zeus?”   
  
Hera delicately strokes the lilies in the flower box, shrugging. “I don’t _want_ to.” Makoto jolts when the lilies burst into flames, filling the air with the twisted aroma of sweetness and smoke. Hera strokes the flames and Makoto’s shocked to see her lashes spiked with tears. “I want my husband to respect me.” She closes her eyes as her features harden. “I am the Goddess of Marriage. I will do everything in my power to make things balanced. To make us…” She fists the lilies and they erupt in a spiral of fire. Hera grits, _“Even.”  
  
_ Without another word, Hera pulls the drape of her toga around herself and she vanishes, leaving the stench of lilies and blood in the air.

* * *

Not five minutes later, Makoto finds himself in the depths of the boat warehouse with Haruka and the rest of the Derketo.  
  
“Well,” Nagisa says pleasantly. “That bitch sounds crazy as ever.”  
  
Hiyori leans against the wall and rubs his temple. “How could the gods just be gone? They’re not dead; nothing’s out of balance.”  
  
Mochizuki shrugs. “She could be lying.”  
  
Nii considers as she lounges between Aki’s thighs – her mate sits on a crate, chewing on her nails with eyes too wide. “If she just wanted to find Poseidon, she knows that she could have easily got the answer out of Haruka.”  
  
Nao nods. “She threatened Makoto; it’s not like he would have lied to her in that situation and she knows it.” Natsuya rubs his mate’s back, features strained with worry.  
  
Makoto’s voice ventures hesitantly – it’s dry and hoarse with fear. “Why does she want to find Poseidon?” He’s still shaking from the encounter with Hera and Haruka’s worried hands can’t soothe the chills away. He feels sick. He just wants to go home with his boyfriend and hide from the world under a mountain of blankets.  
  
Haruka worries his lip. “I think she wants to kill my father.”   
  
The Derketo bristle as one, vocalizing, _“Kill him?”_  
  
“Keep it down,” Natsuya hisses, glancing around the rows of boats.  
  
Kisumi rounds the corner, breathless as he thumbs his cell phone screen. “Just got off the phone with my mom.” He pockets the device before he crosses his arms. “Aphrodite hasn’t heard anything about the mass disappearances, but she said now it makes sense that she hasn’t heard anything from Ares in a while.” At Makoto’s look of confusion, Kisumi says, “God of War? Him and Aphrodite used to be _super_ tight?”  
  
Makoto just blinks and dumbly blurts, “Aphrodite has a cell phone?”  
  
The Siren blinks back. “Of course. She’s a busy lady.”  
  
Haru leans his back against Makoto’s chest, relishing in the embrace of his arms before he sighs. “We can’t worry about this today.”  
  
Natsuya nods, straightening up and lifting his chin. “He’s right. Let’s just get through the competition. I’ll keep an eye on my boat and make sure Miho’s safe.”  
  
Nao levels his gazes with all the younger Derketo. “Keep your senses raised for any other gods hanging around. I don’t like that Hera was confident enough to confront Haruka with humans around.”  
  
Ai speaks up for the first time, hugging himself too tightly around the middle. “Do you think it had something to do with me? Because I’m a Zagreus and she hates my kind?”  
  
“No, no, Ai-chan,” Nagisa soothes, ruffling his hair. “Hera’s got bigger fish to fry, I promise.”  
  
“Literally,” Hiyori snorts. Mochizuki elbows him in the ribs.  
  
Nagisa beams at the fretful little Derketo. “We’ll protect you. You’re part of the pod now.”

* * *

The group disperses before Haruka and Makoto take their lunch at their favorite picnic table on the grassy hill leading down to the shore. However, neither of them are interested in the snow cone before them. Makoto leans his chin on his fist, poking at his sandwich with a fork while Haruka stares down at his fish and chips, deep in thought. Makoto mumbles, “I want to go home.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
They know they can’t, though.  
  
Haruka looks so lost and young as he whispers, “I want my mom.”  
  
Makoto takes his hand to kiss the back of it before lacing their fingers together. He hunches into himself and quietly asks, “What does this mean? All this with Hera and the gods and…”  
  
Haruka shakes his head. The dark circles under his eyes are bruised purple. “I don’t know, but I know that I don’t want anything to do with the gods’ fights. There’s never any resolution and nobody is ever satisfied no matter how much blood is spilled.” He takes Makoto’s hand, meeting his gaze without faltering. “I just want to be a Derketo and I want to be with you.”  
  
Makoto smiles, nuzzling closer to kiss each corner of his mouth before pecking the center of his lips. “Just get through the day, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Haruka sighs.  
  
They make a feeble attempt to finish their lunch and throw away their trash before Haruka hugs his arms around Makoto’s neck. He leans up on his toes to kiss him deeply, giving Makoto all of his stress and anxiety and letting him take it. They part but their foreheads rest together as Haruka whispers, “I love you.”  
  
The gravity in his voice is concerning, but Makoto still smiles. “I love you more.”  
  
“My line.”  
  
“Mine now~” 

* * *

Makoto does his best to be there for his friends the rest of the day; he keeps a firm eye on the tourists, bristling and flinching anytime someone brushes shoulders with him, but he feels a little better when the surfing competition is ready to begin. Tourists gather around the mounted televisions at the balcony bar as others hurry to the beach, sloshing beers and jostling each other. Rin and Gou cheer like a maniacs when Sousuke shows up on screen and Momotarou jumps on Asahi’s back with whooping excitement when he sees Seijuro.  
  
Makoto is smiling as he takes his turn to help Nao in the gift shop, his worries far away in this moment. Medical personnel hover in the deep sea on jet skis, so he’s reassured that all of his friends will be safe while surfing. He can’t find a care in the world as he opens the gift shop door and finds it empty. He relaxes in the quiet and the crisp air conditioning.  
  
He finds Nao at the fish tank, the angels and clowns already sitting in water bags on the counter as he cleans, humming under his breath. Makoto approaches him but pauses when a man steps out from the nearest aisle. He’s short and stout, packed with muscle and he has an odd aura that makes Makoto’s skin tingle.  
  
Nao turns with his smile already in place, then horror dawns in his eyes. He drops the little net he was holding and whispers, “Hermes?”  
  
Who? It doesn’t matter because the man saunters forward with threatening confidence – nothing good is going to come out of him, Makoto can already tell. “Hi, pretty Siren,” the man – no, the _god_ – smirks. “Nice place you got here.”  
  
Nao’s face hardens. His eyes flicker toward Makoto in warning, telling him to leave, _to run,_ but Makoto’s frozen in fear. Calmly Nao asks, “What do you want?”  
  
Makoto _falls_ when Hermes slams Nao into the fish tank with an explosive shatter. Water floods out and glass shards fly as Makoto watches from his knees, not remembering how to breathe. Hermes pins Nao with a forearm against his throat and the Siren bears his fangs with eyes glowing so furiously that it hurts to look at him. Hermes purses his lips. “Humans are interesting little things, aren’t they? They insist they want independence when it’s their nature to submit, to _please…”_  
  
Hermes spins a remote between his fingers. “When they captured that runt of a Zagreus they were able to extract his ichor.” He waves the remote like a magic wand and Makoto’s stomach churns with waves of nausea. “This tells us who’s got ichor in their blood and who doesn’t. You know what that means?” He presses Nao harder against the tank and Makoto gasps when he hears glass digging into Nao’s back, but the Siren doesn’t even flinch. Hermes whispers, “This means you can’t hide from us. You can’t use your legs to pretend you’re something you’re not anymore.”  
  
“Then just kill me, you fucking coward,” Nao sighs, looking immensely bored. “Stop talking and do it.”  
  
Makoto reels. Nao glances down where he’s standing in a pool of water so wide that it’s drenching Makoto’s knees where he’s collapsed on the floor. Makoto looks down as well and gasps when he sees electricity crackling between his fingers. He remembers the first time it happened and Nagisa’s voice echoes through his head: _he shouldn’t be capable of doing anything like he did last night unless he gets really scared._  
  
He slowly meets Nao’s gaze as horror sinks into his heart like a cold stone. Nao wants Makoto to electrocute him – him and Hermes.  
  
If Nao can use lightning all on his own, it shouldn’t kill him. Right?  
  
Makoto wants to cry, he wants to scream. He’s numb out of his body because he doesn’t have it in him to make such a decision so quickly. The very fabric of reality is tearing all around him and he shakes his head pleadingly at Nao.  
  
Hermes presses a button on the remote and it vibrates, surging with a glow – clearly it’s been blessed by magic because all of Nao’s veins light up, pulsing in a golden maze. A violating chill shivers up Makoto’s arms and he looks down to see his own veins glowing with the same light, and everything falls away for one disbelieving moment. He’s a Derketo. Truly, he is.  
  
Hermes growls, “You goddamn disgrace. Where is Poseidon?”  
  
And Makoto looks at Nao with his eyes begging, _do it for me. Give me the strength to do this.  
  
_ So the Siren parts his lips and sings. _  
  
_ Makoto’s body snaps rigidly as a thickness swallows the air in the room, his ears closing up. Windows shatter, glass cases exploding. There’s so much noise and motion but Makoto’s limbs are stiff as death, his mind not his own as Nao’s voice takes control for him. Electricity surges harder between Makoto’s fingers and his hand slaps down on the floor. In slow motion horror, he watches it crawl across the water, licking at Nao’s feet before driving into his legs like knives.  
  
Nao’s eyes are no more, his screaming mouth a burning pit of light as his hair flares with silver fire. Lightning jolts through the room and Hermes flies off the floor and crashes into a shelf before slamming _through_ the wall in a fray of hardwood.  
  
Makoto hides his face in his arms, bowing to the floor and heaving for his life. He feels someone touch him and he lunges forward without thought, clinging to the person as he sobs his terror. Nao rubs his back as he purrs a gentle melody, forcing Makoto’s heart to a calmer beat.  
  
He smells blood and fire and can’t dare to open his eyes. Nao rocks him back and forth. “You have to get up, little mermaid.”  
  
Shakily, Makoto braces his hands on the floor and sits up, face drenched with tears and his whole body shaking. Nao’s clothes are fine, clearly the work of a spell and hiding the true state of his body, but his moonlight skin is covered in blood and his veins are still glowing. So are Makoto’s. Nao takes his face in his hands and levels their gazes. “We have to find the others and go.”  
  
“G-g-go?”  
  
“Hermes wasn’t alone –”  
  
They freeze at the distant muffle of gunshots.  
  
Makoto is so afraid that he cannot even will tears into his eyes. “Oh _fuck,”_ Nao whispers, scrambling to stand and yanking at Makoto. “Get up, get up –”  
  
“I can’t, I –” He can’t move.  
  
_“Haruka is out there.”  
  
_ Reality sharpens with painful clarity, his line of sight narrowing into tunnel vision. Everything sounds like he’s underwater – the thud of his heartbeat, the race of his blood, Nao’s voice. _Haruka is out there.  
  
_ Makoto wavers as he stands but he follows Nao out the door only to stumble upon a warzone.  
  
Tables are flipped over to act as shields from bullets, tourists hunkered down behind chairs, the bar, anywhere they can hide. He hears babies wailing and grown men crying. Umbrellas are torn with bullet holes, drinks and food platters scattered all across the balcony. Asahi’s ducked behind the outdoor oven with Kisumi but Asahi seems oblivious to the chaos around him. All he can do is stare at Kisumi’s glowing veins and the Siren looks so ashamed.  
  
Makoto startles as someone barrels into Nao but the fretting hands quickly tell him it’s Natsuya. “Oh God,” he moans, thumbs smearing through the blood on Nao’s face. _“Oh God…”_ Every line of his body pulls taut. “Where is he, I’ll _fucking_ kill him –” _  
  
_ They duck as bullets sing overhead and Rin yanks them under the bar. He’s hunkered over Gou with a protective hand on the back of her head, his face smeared in debris. He takes one look at Nao and Makoto’s glowing arms and his mouth firms into a line. The hiding tourists scramble away from them, babbling in horror before Rin hisses at them to be quiet.  
  
Boots clamber across the balcony and everyone tenses. Rin keeps a hand clamped over Gou’s mouth, squeezing his eyes shut in dread.  
  
A shadow overtakes the bar and Makoto’s stomach drops when he hears a shotgun click.  
  
_“You mother –”_ There’s a wet crack of a crowbar against a skull and the man goes down before someone staggers around the corner. Nao yanks Makoto behind him but over Nao’s shoulder, he sees who it is.  
  
Rin croaks, “Sousuke?”  
  
He’s still barefoot in his wetsuit, heaving like he ran up the beach when the first shot rang out. The crowbar slips out of Sousuke’s grip as he stares down at himself, turning his arms over with open palms. His veins are glowing. His fingers are trembling, his eyes are wide, and his veins are _glowing.  
  
_ “I’ll be damned,” Natsuya breathes.  
  
_“Sousuke,”_ Rin sobs, yanking him to the floor. Sousuke’s knees hit the ground in a stupor as Rin’s hands fret over him. Both of them are hyperventilating. “Sousuke, _what the fuck,_ what the –”  
  
Another shot rings out and someone roars. A girl.  
  
Makoto peeks over the bar and the air punches out of his lungs. Nii was on the retreat from a madman but now she’s on the floor and clutching the red wetness seeping through her apron. She grits her teeth and works her jaw, breathing hard through her nose – she looks more pissed off than in pain.  
  
A man approaches her but before he can take aim, someone jumps on his back with a flash of ginger hair. Aki’s fangs tear through her gums and she rips into the man’s shoulder, tearing at his scalp with her claws.  
  
Makoto wants Haruka. He wants Haruka so much that he’s sick with it.  
  
The man falls and Aki stumbles over to Nii, leading her to the balcony and all but throwing her over the railing. Makoto hears her crash into the water and Aki jumps after her with scales crawling down her legs. People scream at the sight and Nao stares after her. “We have to jump.” Makoto blanches and Nao firmly repeats, “We have to jump. They’re after us; they’ll chase if we run.”  
  
“Like hell,” Natsuya snaps, wrenching Nao to him.  
  
Across the floor, Kisumi watches the exchange and his expression firms. He turns and frames Asahi’s face for one last kiss – Asahi’s wide eyes never close, his mouth slack against Kisumi’s. The Siren leans back to rub Asahi’s cheek with a heartbreaking smile, his voice thick with tears. “I am so, _so_ sorry.” He barrels into the open aisle and Asahi snaps back to himself just in time to reach for Kisumi, but he’s already launched himself over the railing.  
  
Makoto hears him hit the water and swallows. Nao’s calmed Natsuya down enough to let him go and he turns to Sousuke. He grabs his shaking hands and runs over them with comforting thumbs. “Sousuke, I know you’re afraid but you need to trust us, do you understand?”  
  
“No, _no,_ I don’t –”  
  
Nao gently shakes his head. “We don’t have time to explain, I’m sorry. We have to go and you have to come with us.” Sousuke looks at Rin and Nao quietly says, “He can’t come. He will be safe if we leave, I promise.”  
  
Rin groans, hunching over in pure agony. He hugs his boyfriend and Sousuke’s arms go around him fiercely, cupping the back of his head as he buries his face in Rin’s shoulder. Rin wobbles, “You’ll be okay, it’ll all be okay.” He rests their foreheads together. “You have to let them take care of you.”  
  
Sousuke’s face crumbles, his whole body one trembling line of distraught. He kisses Rin hard, brows furrowed over closed eyes, and Rin flinches when his glowing arms burn him but he stays close anyway. Sousuke kisses his forehead and with a sigh of utter defeat, he says, “I think we should push your dream wedding in Australia a little sooner if we make it through this shit.”    
  
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just properly propose to me at a bar of all places, you tacky shit.” Rin’s still crying but he’s smiling. “I love you, now go.” A gunshot fires in the distance. _“Go.”_  
  
Makoto startles when Nao grabs him and hauls him up. Sousuke follows in a stupor and they take a quick glance into the aisle to make sure the coast is clear before Nao launches over the railing. Makoto flinches at the eruption in the water and Sousuke stares down as Nao’s fin flickers under the surface. “I don’t have a goddamn tail.”  
  
Makoto’s grin shakes at the edges. “Me neither.”  
  
They startle at another shot. “Fuck it,” Sousuke says and they hurl themselves over the railing. Makoto’s heart launches up his throat with his stomach as they fall four stories and they hit the water like it’s concrete. Makoto blacks out for a second before he feels arms around him, hauling him to the surface. He gasps for breath, flailing his arms to try and swim, but he just ends up smacking Sousuke in the face. _“Quit it!”_ Sousuke jars him and Makoto winces against the slam of Sousuke’s firm chest. “Jesus, you can’t swim in open water for shit for a mermaid.”  
  
Makoto chokes, “Not a –”  
  
Someone launches out of the water and crashes on top of them. _“Get down!”_    
  
They crash under the surface as bullets carve white streaks of foam under the water. Makoto is pulled and follows blindly in the darkness of the sea. He emerges under the docks and he coughs, hacking to get air into his drowned lungs. He blinks his stinging eyes and his vision sharpens. There’s someone in his face and Makoto starts to cry. _“Haruka.”  
  
_ “Where the hell were you?” There’s no bite to his voice – it’s rough and frantic as he cards through Makoto’s drenched hair, his tail tight around Makoto’s middle like he’ll never let him go. Makoto has to brace a hand on a pillar so the weight won’t drag him down. “I ran to the gift shop and you weren’t there, I thought –”  
  
“I’m here,” Makoto rushes. “I’m right here.” He runs a thumb over the scales on Haruka’s cheek, drinking in their rough texture, their beautiful shine.  
  
In the distant water, Nagisa and Mochizuki boom, “HIYORI!”  
  
Makoto looks a few docks over to see Hiyori and Ikuya crouched behind a massive ice cooler. Ikuya’s lashes are spiked with petrified tears, his face drained pale as he stares at Hiyori’s glowing arms. The Derketo sighs. “Well, shit.” He pulls off his glasses and takes a moment to fold them, gathering the strength to look at Ikuya. They just stare at each other and Ikuya doesn’t move as Hiyori takes his chin to mesh their lips together softly. Ikuya’s wide eyes blink closed and he leans forward only for Hiyori to pull away. Hiyori is utterly silent as he stands and turns to drop into the water.  
  
Ikuya stares at the ripples and scrambles to the dock’s edge, uselessly croaking, “Hiyori? Don’t go, don’t –”  
  
Makoto has to turn away from the boy’s heartbroken expression, then he jolts with a thought. “Where’d Sousuke go?”  
  
He and Haruka turn around only for their blood to freeze. Like he said before, the weather is beautiful today with the ocean dazzling like spilled topaz. The water is clear. And red clashes with the blue so horribly that Makoto would give anything to go blind.  
  
There’s blood in the water and Sousuke’s nowhere to be found but a man jumps over the balcony railing like he’s set to find him. He swims with a knife flashing hot-white in the sunlight and Makoto watches Ai creep from the shadows of another dock, his body submerged save for his eyes just over the surface. He’s enraged with so much hellfire that the water bubbles around him, the foam hissing into steam. The whites of his eyes are red, his pupils black holes of pure fury.  
  
Makoto scrambles closer to Haruka when he sees a shark fin breach the surface a few feet away, then another and another, following the path of the Zagreus’ guiding magic. The man swims unaware and when he dips under the surface, Ai chants to his sharks in a voice that makes the very air tremble.  
  
_“His heart, lungs, soul, arteries and all. Shoulder at the ready, vital organs on call.”  
  
_ When the sharks dive under, Makoto knows what’s about to happen. Haruka scrambles to drag him underwater, but Makoto resists with a frantic push. “You’re insane, we can’t just _leave_ him –”  
  
“Ai will protect Sousuke, he’s alive, I hear his heart beating.” Makoto searches his face for a lie but Haruka’s expression is set in conviction. “I’m telling you the truth,” he snaps, the stress finally getting the best of him. “Now please, let me get you out of here, _please.”_  
  
Makoto’s so drained that his body threatens to faint. The turmoil of emotions leave him submissive and he lets the Derketo pull him under into darkness.

* * *

Sousuke never imagined he’d die like this.  
  
All surfers have a little fear of drowning, but not enough to ever make them quit. Being shot, though – that’s something he never anticipated. There’s so much pain burning in his thigh that his senses go haywire and stop working entirely, pushed so beyond his threshold of sensation that he goes numb to everything.  
  
He realizes that the ocean has immense weight to it, the water pushing him down like he’s an anchor with no chain, never to breach the surface again. All he can do is grip the floating strings of his red bracelet and wait.  
  
So he hits the sandy ocean floor like a ton of bricks and waits but nothing happens. And how the hell is he breathing underwater? Surely he’s dead.  
  
Sousuke inhales and water floods the sides of his neck, filtering through his throat with his exhale. His stomach expands and his ribs open up, his skin parting without one jolt of pain as if it was always meant to do that. He kicks one leg but they both jump like they’re bound together at the ankles. He feels taller for some reason; his legs feel longer than he remembers. All of his toes move in one singular motion now, rather than individually.  
  
Sousuke blinks his eyes open and his vision is so clear that it’s as if he’s wearing goggles – the sunlight is pure white as it streams through the water and he can make out every individual grain floating in front of him. Ribbons of blood spiral above him and sharks circle it, floating calmly. He sees every battle scar on their fins, all the jagged marks across their snouts, the inward cut of their teeth.  
  
A dark shape hovers over him and Sousuke blinks up at Ai, ears flexing at the clink of bangles around the narrowest part of his fin. Ai gapes down at him before his features brighten with joy and a giddy laugh of bubbles.  
  
Sousuke braces himself as he looks down and promptly freaks the fuck out.  
  
In the place of his legs is a tail, his feet now a singular jagged fin. He flails off the sand and tries to kick the tail off because where are his legs, _where is his dick,_ what in the shitting fuck is –  
  
Of course, his tail follows him where ever he tries to swim and Ai just watches him patiently, waiting for him to tire out with his closed eyes upturned into happy crescents. Sousuke stares at the open gashes across his ribs and gropes at the slashes in his throat. Carefully, he dares to run a hand down his tail. There are no scales; it’s smooth like – well, like shark skin. The tail is a dark blue with white speckles trailing to his fin in perfectly straight rows. The fin is sideways like a shark’s, too. His tail is so… long. Maybe that’s why his body has always felt cramped.  
  
Ai swims around him, nodding back at how he moves his tail in order to make the fin do what he wants. Hesitantly, Sousuke follows his motions and accidently shoots forward a dozen feet, flailing for balance. Damn, he’s strong and that’s – yeah, that’s pretty fucking cool despite everything else. He’s shocked to find out that he’s not bleeding anymore; there’s absolutely no pain from where he was shot.  
  
Ai hovers in front of him and points to Sousuke’s fin, then his own. When Sousuke just blinks, Ai points more insistently and it clicks.  
  
_You’re like me!  
  
_ A Zagreus.  
  
Ai whirls and sweeps up Sousuke’s hands, ready to fly apart with joy. He clicks something in a language that Sousuke does not yet know, but he can see the meaning of the words in Ai’s smile.  
  
_Brother.  
_

* * *

Makoto doesn’t know where Haruka wants to take him, so he just circles his arms around the Derketo’s neck and lets him swim the way after he kisses a spell over Makoto’s mouth to freeze his lungs. He’s cold and tired, the push and pull of waves doing nothing to soothe his stomach. Exhaustion takes over and he passes out into a world of nightmares.  
  
When he jolts awake, he’s on land – or so he thought. He stares up at the rocky ceiling of the sea caves, the moon shining through the circular hole up above. Little waves roll up the stone he’s lying on and Makoto winces as he leans up on his elbows, body aching with soreness. Natsuya and Miho sit on the dark sand a few feet over, Natsuya’s chin propped under a baseball bat as he nods off. Nao lies on the sand asleep, his head pillowed on Natsuya’s thigh. Miho stares up at the stars before she feels Makoto’s gaze and turns. “Hey.”  
  
“Hi,” Makoto croaks, his throat parched for water. She hands him a canteen and he chugs it, wiping at his mouth with a trembling hand. He’s glad that his veins aren’t glowing anymore, but his skin is so dry that it’s flaking. He dips his forearm into the water and sighs in relief. Haruka’s voice drifts through his head: _our bones are like coral. They can dry up; they need water to thrive. The ocean is our home and we know this on a biological level._  
  
A head emerges from the pool and Haruka rakes his drenched hair back to regard Makoto. He looks exhausted, his skin white and his scales faded of color. He swims over but doesn’t hike himself up on the rocks, settling for hovering in front of him. Makoto clears his throat and the sound echoes off the stone walls. “Everyone okay?”  
  
“Yeah. Thetis is taking care of Nii; she’s going to be fine but we need to get her back to her river soon. Freshwater will do her more good than saltwater since she’s more of an alligator than a fish.”  
  
Makoto braces himself in dread. “What about Sousuke?”  
  
“He’s having his first hunt with Ai.”  
  
Makoto stares. “Hunt?”  
  
Haruka nods. “He went through the change. I suspect the –” He chews his lip. “The trauma most likely kicked it off. He’s a Zagreus.”  
  
Makoto crosses his ankles and rubs over his knees. If the trauma of today wasn’t enough to make him _change,_ he doesn’t know if he ever will. He doesn’t know if he’s prepared for something like that just yet.  
  
He’s such a hypocrite, saying that he’d follow Haruka anywhere yet he’s terrified when the universe is giving him the means to.  
  
Haruka touches his knee with a dripping wet hand. “Are you all right?”  
  
“No,” Makoto whispers. “I keep seeing Rin’s face when he had to let Sousuke go, I keep thinking about Asahi and Ikuya and how _lost_ they have to be feeling.” He sniffles and wipes his eyes in the horrible silence of the cave, his ears still ringing from the gunfire. “All those people that had to go through that today, they’ll never be the same.”  
  
Haruka glances away in shame but nods, not denying it. “No humans were hurt, if that makes any difference. Only we were.”  
  
He stiffens. “What do you mean? Was someone else shot?”  
  
“Mochizuki,” Haruka says. “And Nagisa. But they’re healing quickly since there in saltwater.” His eyes dim. “Nagisa said that Rei saw him change when he dove in the water.”  
  
“Oh, no.” Makoto mourns for Rei, someone so logical and scientific who’s been punched in the face with the realization that magic is a reality. “He’s probably going insane.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Makoto levels their gazes with more severity than ever before. “We can’t just leave them like this. Wondering. Never knowing what happened to any of you. It’d kill anyone, Haruka.”  
  
He mulls it over. “Yeah,” he says quietly. Haruka gives a sigh and swims outward. “I’ll go get the others.”  
  
When everyone’s gathered around with the humans on the rocks and the Derketo hovering in the water, it’s Nagisa who speaks up first. “So the gods are working with humans.” He sounds bitter, his body so frail that he looks ten times smaller. “Those men hunted us like animals. Now I know how the whales feel.” He shakes his head, eyes gleaming with infuriated tears. “They have to live their whole lives in the fear we felt today. Everything fine then boom, someone’s bleeding. Someone’s being taken away.” He rubs at his eyes with an angry sob. “How can they live like that, Haruka, why?”  
  
Mochizuki answers for him with a solemn shadow to his face. “Because they’re humans. They don’t have the emotional capacity to give a shit about anything other than themselves.”  
  
“They do,” Kisumi reprimands. “They’re capable of it. We go against our own nature every day by wearing legs, so they can change, too.”  
  
Mochizuki winces at the humans present. “No offense to any of you, but…” He exhales shakily. “I think I’d rather take my chances in the ocean than ever go on shore again.”  
  
Aki nuzzles against Nii’s face as the Melusina rests on her back, head tucked against Aki’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I agree.”  
  
“Well, I don’t,” Kisumi says, lifting his chin while working his arms to stay upright in the water. “There’s bad humans and there’s bad Derketo. Sirens wouldn’t have to travel in threes for protection if that weren’t the case and I never would have met Nao or Nagisa without that rule, so I’m kind of grateful for it in a fucked up way.”  
  
Nao smiles tiredly from where he’s lounging between Natsuya’s parted thighs. “Me too.” He regards Haruka. “No matter what’s decided, Kisumi can’t leave Asahi. You know his broken heart will kill him in a matter of weeks.”  
  
Makoto frowns at him in concern. “What if he doesn’t take you back, Kisumi?”  
  
“Then I’m shark bait,” the Siren laughs. It’s an awful sound.  
  
“Don’t say that,” Nagisa hisses, seizing his friend in an embrace. “Asahi _will_ accept you and I’ll be there to see it. After all, I’m just as dead as you are if Rei doesn’t accept me.”  
  
Makoto lifts his brows in surprise. “You love him, Nagisa?” He didn’t know it was that serious between them.  
  
“Afraid so,” Nagisa sighs with a grin. “We Sirens are such romantics. It’s truly a curse, yeah?”  
  
“Truly,” Nao says and Natsuya tugs his hair. Nao rumbles a warning growl and his mate smirks.  
  
Makoto tenses with a thought. “You know there are people probably looking for you all, right? It’s customary to send out search parties for missing people.” His blood freezes. “Oh.”  
  
Haruka whips around at his tone. “What?”  
  
“Oh.” He feels faint. “My dad. _My dad,_ Haruka, he doesn’t know where I am –” He’s already scrambling to his feet. “I have to go, I have to let him know I’m okay.” He’s never felt guilt like this before. His dad just lost both parents and now he doesn’t know where Makoto is? He can’t imagine what he’s going through.  
  
“All right, we’ll go right now,” Haruka soothes, reaching up for Makoto’s hands to pull him into the water. “Natsuya, keep your boat here at the sea caves. We’re going to take Makoto home and get Nii to the river.”

* * *

Makoto breaches the surface with a gasp, quickly scrambling up the dock ladder with the help of Haruka pushing him up. He kicks into a run, slashing his wet hair back with his blood pounding. Every light in his house is on and the driveway is packed with cars. A sob catches in his throat as he trips up the steps and throws the back door open, calling, “Dad!”  
  
The house is empty but there’s shadows moving across the front porch, through the curtains. Makoto flies through the front door and someone drops their coffee on the porch. Rin gapes at him with Asahi and Makoto’s father pushes past Rei to seize Makoto by the shoulders and shake him. _“Where the hell have you been?!”_  
  
Makoto’s shocked for all of two seconds before he realizes that his dad is _weeping.  
  
_ The man grabs him in a rough embrace and kisses the side of his head frantically. “My boy,” he groans, wavering with relief. “Thank God, my boy. Fuck. _Fuck.”_  
  
Makoto holds him back just as tightly, fingers digging into the back of his flannel. “I’m sorry,” he rasps. “I’m so sorry, I got scared and I hid.” His throat swells with emotion. “I was so scared.”  
  
His dad presses his forehead to Makoto’s temple and never before has his voice sounded so weak. “I thought I’d lost you.”  
  
Makoto squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I called your mom.” He laughs wetly. “Kicked her into an early labor.”  
  
Makoto rears back. _“What?”  
  
_ His dad chuckles, beard glistening with tears. “You’re a big brother now. Ren and Ran were born a few hours ago.”  
  
His heart soars. “Oh my God,” he breathes, his smile disbelieving. Then his face sinks in horror. “I need to call her.”  
  
“I’ll do it, you need to rest.” His dad leans back before frowning. “Why’re your clothes wet?”  
  
“...um.”  
  
The man shakes his head. “Whatever, just – ” He waves a hand before dragging it down his face. “Let me go call the cops, I need to tell them you’re home.” He presses one more kiss to the top of Makoto’s head before stepping through the door, then he pauses. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”  
  
Makoto tries not to start crying again. “I won’t.”  
  
His dad closes the door and Rin flies into his arms. Makoto hugs him back in understanding, whispering, “Sousuke’s okay.”  
  
Rin’s breath hitches and he nods.  
  
Then Rei’s fretting over him, looking burnt out and frayed. Asahi swallows. His features are gaunt in the yellow porch light, mosquitos darting at the overhead bulb. He mumbles, “Have you seen Kisumi?”  
  
Makoto smiles. “Yeah. He’s okay.” He puts a hand on Rei’s shoulder and the boy flinches, his nerves set on edge. “Nagisa’s fine, too.”  
  
Rei just looks at him hard, his glasses fogged up with the night’s humidity. “Is he, though?”  
  
Makoto sighs. “Yes, he is.” Asahi gives his arms a nervous look, remembering how they glowed, and Makoto assures, “We all are.”  
  
Asahi’s face scrunches up, his voice flooding out. “I wanna see him. I _need_ to see him.” He closes his eyes and tears drip off his nose as he shakes his head at the floor. He leans into Rin’s touch when he rubs his back. “He’s still my boyfriend.”  
  
Makoto nods in acceptance and shoulders open the porch door. “Come with me.”  
  
The stars watch on as they gather at the dock behind the house. Wolves yip from the forest and Makoto stares into the twinkling lights of the woods, knowing they’re faeries, not fireflies. They’re probably overjoyed to have Nii back home with Aki by her side.  
  
Haruka ventures from the darkness of the trees, having helped Nii into the river, and he pauses when he notices the crowd with Makoto. He grunts when Rei hugs him and almost falls when Asahi tackles him but he smiles and pats their backs. “I’m fine, we’re all fine.”  
  
He comes over to hold Makoto’s hand for strength and takes a breath. “Some of us in Iwatobi are…” He coughs sheepishly. “Different, as I’m sure you’ve realized.” He levels his gaze with Rei and Asahi. “There are dangerous people after us and this doesn’t have to be your fight. You can walk away right now and nobody will judge you for it. It’s – it’s a lot.”  
  
“But it’s worth it,” Makoto promises, gazing at Haruka. The Derketo blushes and ducks his eyes before watching Rei and Asahi for a reaction.  
  
“Way to be ominous as hell, Haru-chan.”  
  
They turn around at Nagisa’s voice and Haruka bristles. “You were supposed to wait –” He scrambles to keep Rei standing as the boy wavers.  
  
Nagisa shrugs from the water, the motion tense with nerves. “Couldn’t wait. Sorry.”  
  
Rei ventures to the edge of the dock and Makoto grabs the back of his shirt before he can fall in. Rei braces a hand on a pillar and sinks into a crouch, his face flooded in the pink light of Nagisa’s tail. The Siren doesn’t smile, his expression so guarded that it barely even looks like his face. Quietly, he says, “Hi, Rei-chan.”  
  
“Nagisa, you’re –” He blanches as Nagisa floats on his back to stretch out his tail, letting the human see it. “Is that – that’s real?”  
  
“Mmhmm.”  
  
Rei babbles, “How – _how_ did you…?”  
  
“Born with it,” Nagisa says, almost smiling.  
  
“So you’re a –”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you –”  
  
“Pretend I’m a human and fall in love with tall, blue-haired wonderboys?” Finally, he smiles. “Yeah, I really do.”  
  
Rei stares down at his tail and Nagisa lifts his fin for him to run a hand over it. “You’re beautiful,” Rei breathes.  
  
Nagisa shakes like he’s about to combust before launching his upper body onto the dock to wrap his arms around Rei’s neck and laugh against his mouth. He pecks his lips again and again and Rei smiles, letting the Derketo kiss all over his face.  
  
“Damn it,” Rin hisses, turning away to wipe at his eyes. Makoto and Haruka share a grin.  
  
Asahi’s gaze desperately searches the water and there’s a flash of purple light just beneath the surface. “Kisumi,” Asahi calls. “Kisumi, come here.”  
  
The light flickers nervously before a head of pink hair breaches the surface, Kisumi’s eyes dimmed with anxiousness. Asahi lets his breath out in a rush and sits on the side of the dock as Kisumi swims up to him. The Siren can’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I’m like this.”  
  
Asahi hikes a brow. “Because you’re you?”  
  
Kisumi snorts, gaze roaming anywhere that isn’t Asahi’s face. “Yeah.”  
  
The human shakes his head. “Dude, you’re an idiot.” Kisumi startles and Asahi snaps, “I’ve been sick with panic attacks ever since you jumped off that balcony and you think it mattered to me what you became when you landed in the water?”  
  
Kisumi’s expression floods with guilt. “Asahi, I –”  
  
“All I want is you.” He clenches his trembling hands into fists. “I just wanted you, you’re the only person who calms me down instead of telling me to just _get over it_ and I didn’t know where you were or if you’d ever come back.” He sloppily wipes his nose with his sleeve. “You still love me when I’m – when I’m broken like this –”  
  
_“You’re not broken –”_  
  
“So you’re still my person no matter what you are. Okay?”  
  
Asahi reaches down to cup Kisumi’s face and the Siren sighs against his palm, trailing his lips over his fingers. “Okay.”

* * *

Hiyori straightens out his clothes and the waves lap at his bare feet. He gazes at the house on the distant hill with a sigh. “This is so stupid.” He braces himself before trudging up the sand and into the grass.  
  
He climbs over the picket fence and startles when there’s a bark from the yard. Before the Kirishimas Doberman can launch at him, Hiyori throws a spell forward and the dog stumbles, fast asleep before he even hits the ground. Hiyori shakes his nerves off and looks up at the second story window, where soft light glows behind the curtains. He hauls himself up the nearest oak tree and ventures across a sturdy limb to the window. He stares at his reflection in the glass for a minute before knocking his fist against it.  
  
There’s a shout and someone careens off their chair with a painful-sounding crash. Hiyori winces.  
  
The window flies open, curtains billowing, and Ikuya’s head pops out. He’s breathing hard from his fall, hair askew and his eyes bloodshot from no sleep. Hiyori rubs the back of his neck with what he hopes is a handsome grin. “Hey, you.”  
  
Ikuya stares. “What. The. _FUCK?!”  
  
_ He shouts so loudly that Hiyori almost loses his balance but Ikuya wrenches him in by the shirt collar to pin him against his bedroom wall. “What the _hell_ were you thinking?” His voice is all snarl and Hiyori knows to be afraid because the hungriest of sharks can’t rival the fabled Kirishima Temper. “You kiss me and then turn into some… some bitch-ass… _trout,_ how dare you –”  
  
Ikuya seizes when Hiyori frames his face. Hiyori drinks him in, adoring the softness of cheeks that are still round with baby fat, his thin nose, the wing of his lashes. “Yeah,” Hiyori murmurs. “I kissed you and I’m a bitch-ass trout. You’re exactly right.”  
  
Ikuya’s blush is warm under Hiyori’s hands. “So you’re like Nao?”  
  
He freezes. “Wait, you knew about Nao?”  
  
Ikuya scoffs. “Duh. Him and Nii-chan aren’t as slick as they think they are and I’m smarter than everyone thinks I am.”  
  
“That you are,” Hiyori says. He laces his fingers behind Ikuya’s neck. “I’m sorry I just left like that but I didn’t want you to get hurt.”  
  
Ikuya ducks his head to pout, mumbling, “I wasn’t gonna.” Hiyori just smiles. “Are you all right?”  
  
“Yeah, so are Natsuya and Nao.” The boy deflates in relief and Hiyori tips Ikuya’s chin up to study the tired lines of his face. “Are you okay? It’s pretty late.”  
  
“Couldn’t sleep.” He wrings the front of Hiyori’s shirt through his fists, eyes haunted. “Today was shit,” he whispers.  
  
Hiyori cards a hand through his mess of teal hair, heart aching. “Yeah, it really was.”  
  
Ikuya stares down at where he’s clutching Hiyori’s shirt, his voice hushed. “Can you stay?”  
  
_Gods, nobody’s better than you.  
  
_ “Sure.”

* * *

Long after the Sirens have went home with their respective humans and Haruka’s snuck into Makoto’s bedroom through a window, Rin’s still sitting at the dock behind the house. He stares out at the endless black sea, eyes darting to every ripple on the surface. Exhaustion tugs at his body and Rin sighs. “Come on, idiot,” he mumbles. “Come home. Take me to bed.”  
  
He watches the water for a few minutes longer and considers trudging home, but no matter how tired he is, he knows he can’t. He won’t.  
  
Rin lets his head hang down with closed eyes, elbows braced on his crossed legs. He’s unaware of a head breaching the water but he’d know the weight of such a gaze anywhere, so he looks down over the dock’s edge.  
  
Sousuke gazes up at him and smiles breathlessly. “I heard your voice.”  
  
All Rin can do is gape. Sousuke’s eyes glow now, the strong contours of his face sharpened by the teal light. There’s gills at his throat and a long, dark tail swishes in powerful strokes to keep himself upright.   
  
Rin launches himself over the dock and crashes into the water. Sousuke grunts a laugh as he catches him and Rin’s legs struggle to find purchase around the slippery texture of his tail, so Sousuke hitches his thighs high around his waist. Rin slams into his lips and their teeth click, their tongues are messy but he moans in guttural relief. Sousuke pulls Rin’s hair from its tie and tangles his fingers through the wet strands, pulling him in harder by the back of his head. “I missed you,” Sousuke says. “I missed you so much.”  
  
After a few minutes of frantic kisses and whispers, Rin leans back to take a proper look at his boyfriend. His tail doesn’t glow like the other merfolk and one feel of the smooth texture has him gasping in excitement. “Are you a _shark?”_  
  
Sousuke wiggles his fin a little. It’s too damn cute. “I think the pattern is more like a whale shark, actually.”  
  
“That’s fucking sick,” Rin breathes, carefully trailing his fingers over the gills in his ribs. “Did it hurt, when you…”  
  
“No. It felt right.”  
  
This whole night feels like a fever dream but Rin manages to steady himself. “Good.” He trails damp kisses over Sousuke’s bad shoulder.  
  
His boyfriend grins. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s not stiff or anything.”  
  
“Holy shit.” Carefully, Rin kneads his shoulder and Sousuke doesn’t flinch. “Damn, you’re swole.”  
  
“I’ve been swole,” he pouts, kneading Rin’s ass.  
  
Rin smirks. “Those fish genes hit you like a shot of steroids.” Because he’s always one to ask the most important questions, he says, “Think you can fuck like this?”  
  
“Don’t see why not. But I don’t know how to...” He shudders. “Un-sheath it yet.”  
  
“I’m sure I could find a way,” Rin purrs through a grin and Sousuke laughs against his lips. He supposes wet kisses that taste like salt are going to be a thing now, but he doesn’t really mind. He feels the shape of Sousuke’s smile and that’s all that matters.  
  
Sousuke rubs against his face and Rin nuzzles his nose – he’s seen the merfolk do it numerous times to show affection with a lover and he finds that it’s such a sweet, soft action with surprising intimacy. Sousuke gazes at him and holds him a fraction tighter. “We’ll be okay?”  
  
“We’ll be perfect,” Rin vows, clutching his fin with his toes. His heart sinks but he tries not to show it. “I guess you can’t come home with me, huh?”  
  
“Yeah, I can. I’ll just have to go back to the water in the morning.” Rin beams up until Sousuke says, “I need to pee, anyway.”  
  
_“Wow.”_ He kicks Sousuke’s ass with his heel and turns to lay across his boyfriend’s back with his arms around his neck. “All right, waterboy, swim me home. Makoto left his bedroom window open and I’m tired of hearing him and Haruka smash.”  
  
“My poor baby.”  
  
“I’ll be needing copious amounts of dick to forget it.”  
  
“Can do,” Sousuke chuckles, kicking his fin to propel forward. Rin snuggles his face against the back of his neck with a smile.

* * *

Makoto and Haruka fall back on the mattress, limbs sprawled across the damp sheets as their chests heave. “Wow,” Makoto says, shifting his hips. There’s a new type of soreness in his core but he actually likes the ache, the proof that Haruka was inside of him. “That didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”  
  
“Right?” Haruka tosses the condom into the wastebasket before snuggling into Makoto’s side. He yawns and peppers sleepy kisses against his cheek. “Remind me to thank Nagisa for telling me about that soundproof spell I used for your dad’s room.”  
  
Makoto glances over at the door to make sure it’s still locked anyway. “It definitely came in handy.”  
  
Haruka strokes patterns across Makoto’s naked chest. His tattoos pulse in the quiet. “I’m sorry I snapped at you today, when I was trying to make you go underwater.”  
  
Makoto sighs, lying on his side to properly face the Derketo. “Well, if there was ever a time it was forgivable, I’d say it was today. Don’t worry about it.” He pecks Haruka’s nose. “Sorry for calling you insane.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
Haruka hikes a thigh over Makoto’s hip to pull him closer and Makoto squeezes his knee, rubbing the groves of it. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I’m going to get any sleep as tired as I am.”  
  
Haruka runs soothing fingers down his face, over his lips. “We’ll theorize in the morning. I doubt we’ll be able to figure out this whole scheme in one night of burnt-out ideas.” He kisses Makoto, a little teeth, a little wet. “It’s just you and me here. Nothing else matters.” He studies the anxiousness running through Makoto’s trembling fingers before he realizes what he needs to truly say. “I’ll protect you. I will _always_ protect you.”    
  
That’s just what Makoto needed to hear to let his eyes slip closed, his cheek nestled against his mate’s heart.  
  
That night, he dreams of the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have waited so long to give sousuke's zagreus reveal like oh my god 
> 
> so ai's chant: _heart, lungs, soul, arteries and all. shoulder at the ready, vital organs on call,_ are actually lyrics from an imogen heap song i listened to while writing this chapter - "you know where to find me." a very haunting and immersive song. 
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you have a lovely day. come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) c:


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all. i wanted to give a quick explanation as to why this update took so long - as i've mentioned on other social medias, this story was inspired by my own visits to my grandparents' beach house, and they were basically everything good about my childhood that i can look back at and be so, so happy. i was so lucky to get to visit that house last year and write the first chapter of this story on the same balcony my grandmother and i sat on when i was little. but after both of their passings, there's been a lot of family drama with the house, and i've had to push down all those memories in order to just survive. 
> 
> but last weekend i was able to go back to that house and get the closure i never thought i would have. i wrote the end of coral and bone on that same balcony i wrote chapter one, on that same balcony where some of my most precious memories i took place. so this all felt right, and i hope you understand. : ) 
> 
> that being said, this was intended to be the last chapter of coral and bone, but because the finale is quite extensive in terms of content, i ran a poll on twitter and yall decided that splitting the finale into 2 parts would work better (since i could update quicker heh). so this is part one of the final chapter and an epilogue will follow. i will not be updating any of my other fics until this one is completed. 
> 
> thank you and i hope you enjoy! chapter song for part one is [my blood by ellie goulding](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdBBp0t9_cw)

* * *

_"I’m caught in the crossfire of my own thoughts_  
  
_The color of my blood is all I see on the rocks_  
  
_As you sail from me_  
  
_The waves will break every chain on me_  
  
_My bones will bleach, my flesh will flee_  
  
_So help my lifeless frame to breathe."_

**My Blood by Ellie Goulding**

* * *

 Makoto and Haruka have a rare bout of normalcy the following morning; it’s short-lived and bittersweet but neither of them dare to complain. Riku leaves that morning to go help the police at Trident’s Point since the property is still a crime scene, and Makoto and Haruka bask in the silence of the house. They drink coffee on the couch with the porch doors wide open; they listen to birds sing with the wind-chimes as the waves churn in the distance. Rain patters the windows, showering the grasslands and leaving the palm trees glossy.   
  
From Makoto’s lap, Haruka clutches his mug as he watches the clouds overhead – there’s no line of demarcation between the sea and sky, just one endless stretch of foreboding black. “Storm’s coming,” he mumbles.  
  
Makoto turns on the television and he rubs Haruka’s back as they watch the weather. “At least there’s no sign of a hurricane,” Makoto sighs, relishing in the whipped cream swirled atop his coffee.  
  
“Not yet,” Haruka snorts, snuggling back against Makoto’s chest. Makoto sets his mug aside to hug Haruka to him and rests his cheek against his head, pecking a kiss there. The Nereid reaches back to play with Makoto’s hair. “Storms are so different underwater; they’re easier to hide from.” Absently, Haruka nuzzles his nose along the line of Makoto’s jaw. “We’d be safer there. I could protect you better.”  
  
Makoto smiles, affection curling warmly in his voice. “I can’t hold my breath _that_ long.”  
  
“Mmm.” Haruka turns around to straddle him, their limbs fitting together so naturally. Makoto is no longer overwhelmed by such contact; settling his palms on Haruka’s thighs and meeting his gaze feels easier than looking at his own reflection. Haruka’s hands fold over either side of Makoto’s throat to stroke it in indulgent sweeps, and the Derketo leans closer. The air buzzes between their lips as he murmurs, “I could just keep kissing you underwater.”  
  
Makoto blushes at the thought, as beautiful of a fate that would be. “I could do that forever,” he whispers like a shy secret, and Haruka’s eyes glow a deeper blue with affection. Their lips mesh together but all of their kisses feel stolen now, as if it’s their last. Makoto loathes the feeling; Haruka tastes like fear and want all at once, so Makoto holds him tightly and dares the world to take him away.  
  
Haruka’s hips roll down on Makoto’s crotch, searching for the rhythm that their bodies danced to between the sheets. He ducks to Makoto’s throat with a possessive rumble, licking a spot to sink his teeth into. Makoto’s hiss climbs into a gasp, fingers digging into Haruka’s flesh to leave his own marks.  
  
Makoto’s busy making a mess of Haruka’s mouth when he feels a wave of tension surge through the Derketo. It’s not a response of pleasure; Haruka goes stiff as death and Makoto breaks away to search his face, cupping his cheek for their gazes to meet. His voice is a ragged lurch. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Haruka’s eyes search the ocean through the window. “I feel something.” He clenches a fist over his chest, struggling to find the words. “It’s like – pressure. And it’s cold.”  
  
Makoto sits up straighter with a frown, putting a hand under Haruka’s shirt to splay his fingers over the Derketo’s heart. His skin is chilled and falling paler by the minute. The Nereid mutters, “Maybe we should get back to the caves now.”  
  
Makoto deflates but nods, smiling into Haruka’s apologetic kiss.

* * *

Makoto still carries anxiousness for his mate once they arrive at the sea caves, but their friends do a fine job of lightening the mood. Haruka has duties to attend to, so after a parting kiss, Makoto sits on the shore of the cave’s pool while Miho stays tucked away in a corner, watching everyone from afar with guarded curiosity.  
  
Makoto is a bit surprised that Rin is present, lounging on the rocks with his eyes closed against the sunshine as he waits for Sousuke to come back from his hunt with Ai. Rin looks – well, mutilated, and blissfully so. Black hickies marr his throat and claw marks peek out from his inner-thighs, under his shorts. His skin is flushed, lips bruised swollen from kisses, and Natsuya smirks at Makoto’s bewildered expression. He nudges his shoulder with a hushed voice. “It’ll take Sousuke a while to settle into his instincts; a Zagreus goes a bit wild when they claim a mate.”  
  
Makoto’s eyes widen with a frantic whisper, “Did they…?”  
  
Natsuya makes a face and shakes his head. “I doubt Sousuke had the capacity to bond with all his instincts telling him to first make sure that everyone knows Rin is his.”  
  
A head breaches the pool and Nao shakes his hair out as he swims over to Natsuya and Makoto. The Siren casts a sly glance at Rin, calling, “Looks like you had quite a night.”  
  
Rin peeks an eye open and arches a brow. “Did you boys know,” he grins slowly, “that sharks have two dicks?”  
  
Makoto startles, “Oh my G—” His mouth snaps shut, face burning, and Natsuya howls a laugh with a rowdy clap. Makoto frets, “Rin, that – that sounds dangerous.”  
  
His chuckle is still a low rasp from sex. “Don’t worry.” He flips his hair with a wink. “He took good care of me.”  
  
“Jesus,” Makoto shudders, which only makes Natsuya crow louder.  
  
Indeed, Sousuke is positively territorial when he comes back. Ai pops out of the water with a timid smile, but his focus stays on Sousuke with bated breath. Makoto had not yet seen Sousuke in his Zagreus form and he’s shocked at just how _powerful_ his friend looks now – his tail rolls with muscle and carves through the water with ease, his eyes twitching with a crazed glint until he finds his mate.  
  
Rin goes to him, sitting on the edge of the rocks with his calves in the water, and he makes impatient grabby-hands. Makoto and the others watch in suspended pause as Sousuke swims every bit like a predator, but Rin does not falter.  
  
Sousuke hikes his elbows up on Rin’s thighs and Rin smiles with his eyes half-lidded in affection. He cups Sousuke’s face in greeting and Rin lets him nose around his throat, rolling his head this way and that as Sousuke nuzzles him. He’s patient in letting Sousuke check him over, perfectly supple in placating the Zagreus’ instincts that tell him to make sure Rin isn’t hurt or smells like anyone else – only after that does Sousuke start to look more like the person Makoto remembers, his features opening up in level-headedness.  
  
Rin rubs Sousuke’s back but freezes to the bone when his hand comes up dripping red. “Sousuke, _what the hell –?!”_  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he rumbles. “It’s just a scratch.”  
  
Rin’s gaze darts to Ai for clarification, but the smaller Zagreus glances away with his mouth firmed into a line.  
  
Soon, more familiar faces breach the pool. Nii is back from the swamplands, swimming gingerly with a wince but smiling with all her heart whenever Aki looks at her. Hiyori is more chipper than usual and it’s a bit odd to have a conversation with him without worrying about any impending snark. Nagisa sprawls out on the rocks and stretches, but he looks hazy – drunk on the most incredible feeling imaginable. He glows for more reasons than one as he hums to himself, voice rising and falling with emotion.   
  
Singing signals Kisumi’s approach from underwater, a wordless melody that speaks of daydream-languidness – a peace that no language could ever describe. Nao flashes a knowing smirk at his fellow Sirens while Mochizuki rolls his eyes at the lovestruck fools around him.  
  
When Kisumi swims over with his head in the clouds, Makoto beams. “How’d things go with Asahi?”  
  
“Things,” Kisumi takes a breath. “Are _very_ good.”  
  
“Gods,” Mochizuki scoffs. “You lot can barely talk, you’re so out of it.”  
  
“Curse of the Sirens,” Hiyori sighs, upturning his nose. “They fall in love and it’s like they’re having a constant orgasm. Can’t relate.”  
  
_“Yah, Hiyori, you’re no better with that dumb grin about Ikuya – don’t SPLASH me –”_  
  
Natsuya pouts at his mate, nudging his cheek with his knee. “I don’t remember you singing that much when we got together.”  
  
Nagisa scoffs, flicking water at Nao, who just closes his eyes and grins in defeat. “Trust me,” Nagisa laughs. “Nao sang of you so much that every Derketo in a hundred mile radius knew your name.”  
  
Natsuya grins in satisfaction and Nao’s face scrunches up when his mate boops his nose.   
  
When Haruka returns, Makoto’s worry increases tenfold at how ragged he looks. Makoto reaches a hand out for him and cradles his fingers, begging, “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Thetis –” His voice is lost to the rumbling underwater. The cave gives a mighty shake as stones collapse, and a figure rears from the surface in a swarm of waves. Thetis is other-worldly even for a mermaid, the entirety of her body coated in scales, her eyes stern black pits as she holds her chin high with authority. The other Derketo do not hesitate to bow in the upmost submission, scampering away to clear a path for her to reach Haruka.  
  
As Nereids, they are both shades of blue – Haruka is everything romantic and freeing about the sea while Thetis is dark with a tsunami’s power. She is just as disturbing as Makoto remembers from the time she cornered him on the beach, but her voice is soft as she regards Haruka. “You should not have brought your mate here, nephew.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes sharpen and narrow in challenge, which leaves both humans and Derketo shell-shocked. “He will stay close to me,” Haruka says with finality. Makoto feels the very same resolution in his soul.  
  
Thetis chuckles, though not meanly. “You are just like your mother.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
The Queen of the Nereids eyes Natsuya and Miho with a different tone. “The other Derketo are stressed by the presence of humans in our caves; they have taken a consensus and pleaded that I block off the tunnels until they leave. Your people are afraid, little one, and you have a duty to them.”  
  
Haruka rears up for an argument before Makoto quickly waves his hands. “It’s okay.” Thetis glares at him for speaking and Makoto can barely withstand such a look. “It’s okay,” he says more gently, bowing his head. “They have reasons for being scared of us.”  
  
Thetis seems impressed in her own refined way.  
  
_“This is ridiculous,”_ Hiyori mumbles under his breath, and the other Derketo blanche in horror as Thetis’ gaze snaps to him. Hiyori does not falter. “Other Storm-Bringers are avoiding me like an oil-spill because they smell my human on me.”  
  
Slowly, Natsuya and Nao gape at him and Hiyori slips further into the water to hide his blush.   
  
Thetis huffs. “Being outcasted should be nothing new to you, Son of Medusa.” She turns her back on him and the water bubbles into steam around Hiyori, but Mochizuki yanks his elbow to keep him in place.  
  
Haruka worries his lip before squaring his shoulders. “He has a point, Thetis. Our prejudices are ancient and they have no place here.” He glances at Makoto and the human flushes with pride. “We cannot turn our backs on each other at a time like this.”  
  
Thetis’ face twists and her words are more growl than voice. “You should have no humans nor Zagreus’ in the presence of our kind.” She glares at them like their very existence is loathing.  
  
Ai bows his head without a word, but Sousuke’s scoff is mocking. “So that’s why you people tried to attack me and Ai when we came back to the caves.” He lifts his brows over half-lidded eyes, taunting in his indifference to all these customs. Rin glances at Sousuke’s bloody back and his expression hardens.    
  
Haruka says, “The Zagreus’ _are_ our people. They are mine. We have no reason to forbid them from joining the migration or abandoning them any longer.”  
  
Thetis’ face is awash with emotion as she whispers, “What’s gotten into you?” She is not a queen in this moment – merely a confused relative that no longer recognizes her own nephew.  
  
Haruka is not apologetic. “We are allowed to change.” Thetis tenses when he takes her hand and he looks equally parts young and desperate. “Are you not tired, Thetis?”  
  
Everyone stiffens in the following silence. Thetis looks down at his small hand over hers before sighing. “Rule this group of your friends as you wish to, but do not approach the others with such ideals.” She levels their gazes. “As your mate said, they have a right to be afraid and act accordingly. You will not change the Derketo or myself in a day.” She cups his cheek with a sad smile. “Though I know you will try.”  
  
He bows his face into her palm and Thetis strokes his cheek before leaning away. She regards the gathering with a voice that booms with unshakable authority. “You may live as you please, but until things have settled, you are exiled from the others of your kind – this includes your families. I cannot burden my people with any more stress now that the old gods are targeting Derketo.”  
  
Makoto reels but none of the Derketo look surprised.  
  
“You keep your humans in this cave alone – I cannot have mothers giving birth under such distress, and I will not blame any mates for protecting them from you.” She turns to Miho and the human cowers in the wake of her fury, but she never looks away, which speaks volumes of her courage. Thetis barks, “Son of Hecate.”  
  
Nao closes his eyes in dread. “Yes, Queen Thetis?”  
  
“Your mother is the creator of the most powerful witchcraft this realm has ever known; she birthed you from the moon itself. Surely, you share her talent of erasing memories.”    
  
Nao chews his lip as Natsuya balks at him. “Yes,” the Siren sighs.  
  
Thetis says, “You will steal her knowledge of our kind once she is out of danger. Leave her mind barren.”  
  
Anxiety climbs Makoto’s throat as Miho’s eyes brim with enraged tears, but Thetis does not waver. “She is from a people that wish to harm us.” The queen glances at Natsuya and Nao tenses at the unspoken threat. He nods once, but Thetis’ smile is hardly reassuring. “Good.”  
  
She regards her nephew before parting, pushing her burly arms to stay upright in the water. “Hera dropped by to speak to me last night. She mentioned that she saw you.”  
  
A muscle ticks in Haruka’s jaw. “She spoke of the missing gods?”  
  
“Yes, but I have never cared less about anything in my life. Men of any species are not worth my time and any woman pining after a rapist like Zeus is lower than the ground to me.” She scowls. “I know that she cornered you. Do what you must if she acts so carelessly again. I never liked her; I will handle the repercussions against your actions.”  
  
With that, Thetis departs and everyone sags in relief. Makoto tries not to shake as he wrings his hands. “She’s… very contradictive.”  
  
“All the old gods are,” Nii hisses.  
  
Nagisa fluffs his curls in a habit of distress. “How did Hera know about the attack at Trident’s Point if she left before it happened?”  
  
“You heard Thetis,” Rin snorts, arms laced over Sousuke’s shoulders protectively. “Apparently she’s after Zeus.”  
  
Haruka frowns. “Zeus wasn’t there, though. Nao saw Hermes and Mochizuki mentioned Ares, but Zeus wasn’t present.”  
  
Makoto’s brows crease, his mind racing in the dark. Every bit of information fits together _somehow_ in his brain, but the pieces are scrambled. “Maybe Zeus was leading the attack? From afar, or something.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes dart with thought. “We know that she wants to find my father. She admitted to Makoto and I that she wants to find Zeus as well, and Thetis’ account tells me that she’s getting desperate in her search.” His spinal fin bows before swelling upright in realization. “There’s no possible way that my father is working with Zeus to destroy the Derketo. He’s a fool but he would not act out of harm in such a way; it would go against his very nature and gods are not human, they don’t have the capacity for a change of heart.”  
  
“Shit, this is confusing,” Natsuya groans, waving his hand in a plea for silence. He rakes through his curls, roughening them up as he purses his lips. “We know that most of the old gods have teamed up with humans to take out the Derketo and something’s up with Zeus and Poseidon. That’s enough for us to hunker down and stay safe until we can figure out something more concrete.”  
  
After a time of sitting in nervous silence, the Derketo leave to hunt or seek comfort from their respective humans. Rin stays with Sousuke and their murmurs do well to break up the tension, but Makoto cannot help but feel sick with dread. Haruka puts a hand on his knee and squeezes in understanding.  
  
Makoto looks down at his own legs and Haruka’s tail as they sit on the shore, a contraction that somehow feels more natural than breathing. He finds comfort in the familiar texture of Haruka’s scales, the fierce glow in his protective stare. “My head hurts,” Makoto says, nuzzling into the Derketo’s shoulder. “I wish we could just figure out what’s going on.”  
  
Haruka pecks his hair. “We will,” he vows. “But we need to take care of ourselves for now, like Natsuya said.”  
  
Makoto looks over at the other human, who sits on the edge of the rocks so Nao can lounge between his thighs – Sousuke is doing the same thing with his own mate, and Makoto turns his confused smile to Haruka. “Why do you all do that? Like napping between someone’s legs. I’ve seen Aki and Nii do it, too.”  
  
Haruka smirks. “It’s a sign of sexual possessiveness. Want me to do it to you?”  
  
Makoto’s face flashes hot. “M-Maybe later.”  
  
Haruka chuckles and lies down to rest his head in Makoto’s lap – Makoto’s hands magnetize to his hair and the Nereid sighs, closing his eyes. “I like this better.”  
  
As he naps, Makoto’s eyes drift to Miho. She’s shaking with fury at the prospect of someone violating her mind like Thetis commanded Nao to do. The Siren looks over at her and shakes his head. “I won’t take your memories, Miho, you’ve given me no reason to do so. My loyalty is to myself before any royal. No offence, Haruka.”  
  
He snorts. “I understand.”  
  
Miho crosses her arms, hunkering deeper into her corner of the cave. “I never even liked the politics of my own kind. Mermaid monarchies seem terrifying.”  
  
Makoto can only agree.

* * *

Night stumbles upon them quickly. After hours trapped in the cave, Makoto grows desperate for fresh air and needs to eat, so he and Haruka sneak out to fetch something for all the humans. They walk up the hidden beach and cut through the woods to reach the square; they are weary in the crowds and make quick work of finding a food shack for greasy take-out, but they take a quick opportunity to be alone by sitting on the beach with their meal.  
  
Makoto used a phone at the food shack to call his dad with the excuse that he and his friends are camping out tonight, but he feels guilty and yearns for the comfort of his own bed. Still, he’s relieved to have a minute to himself after a day trapped inside bleak stone and misery. The grainy sand itches his legs, the evening humidity is unbearable, but he is just too sleepy to care. Haruka is no better, exhausted with stress and slouching as he stares out at the ocean. It kills Makoto to see him like this, but the only comfort he can offer is by massaging Haruka’s neck with one hand and eating with the other.  
  
There’s a strangeness to the night – even the stars are in hiding. Makoto cannot find the moon in the clouds but the waves churn with the promise of a storm, climbing higher up the shore with every breath.  
  
Haruka’s shoulders bunch up as rigidness locks his muscles, and Makoto startles. “What –”  
  
The Derketo flies into a stagger toward the water and Makoto drops his sandwich to fumble after him, grabbing his wrist. Haruka collapses in the sand, gasping with his face awash in heartbreak. Makoto’s pulse is wardrums in his ears. _“Haruka –”_  
  
“It’s my dad,” he croaks.  
  
His stomach drops. He gazes out at the water, not feeling the slightest pull to it in this moment. He wants to run from the waves that chase them, take Haruka home so they can hide from the world in each others’ arms, under mountains of warm blankets. But the Derketo is immovable as a Greek statue.  
  
Makoto sinks down to hold Haruka with no short amount of pleading. “You can’t just go out there, let’s go tell Thetis and –”  
  
Haruka’s voice raws, eyes flashing like waves in lightning. “Makoto, he’s my _father.”_ His fist clenches his heart. “He’s calling to me.”  
  
“He _abandoned_ you.”  
  
Haruka’s eyes brim with tears and grief knives Makoto’s chest. “I can’t do the same to him. _Please.”_ His voice falls smaller. _“I miss him.”_  
  
Makoto’s head darts back and forth from his mate to the water. Anxiety pressurizes in his body before it breaks in a fuming sigh. “Fine.” He stands up and reaches down for Haruka. “But you’re taking me with you.”  
  
_“What?”_  
  
“If you don’t think it’s going to be dangerous, then there’s no reason for me not to go.” He splays his fingers open with conviction in his whisper. “I’m not leaving you alone.”  
  
They venture out with Makoto clinging to Haruka’s back, trying to keep his legs out of the Nereid’s way. Makoto would rather be anywhere than lost in open water – there is no land or hope in sight. He can’t think of many places that he could die with such a confirmation that nobody in the world will ever find him. It’s impossible to keep himself grounded; he feels untethered, but at least he’s silent in his anxiety.  
  
They find a rock formation just large enough for Makoto to sit on. “I’ll be _right_ back,” the Derketo vows. “He’s close. I don’t want him to lash out at you if he’s hurt.”  
  
Makoto’s body clenches with restraint before he seizes Haruka to smash their mouths together. Haruka cups his face with frantic pecks and Makoto puts a hand over the Derketo’s heart, memorizing its rhythm once he’s by himself on the rocks. He crosses his legs to keep them out of the water, too afraid to look down into the murky black. The endless darkness disorients him; hearing the waves but not seeing them makes his stomach churn.

Moonlight breaks through the clouds but realizing how hopelessly far the ocean stretches makes him feel more alone. He doesn’t know how much time passes but his pulse quickens with every breath. The tide is rising, licking at his feet, and just when he’s about to pass out with light-headedness, sea form breaks in a rippling circle. Makoto’s heart surges only to freeze when he recognizes what he’s looking at. _“Kasatka?”  
  
_ The little dolphin swims closer with a high chortle, fighting against the angry waves. Makoto scrambles to the edge and coos for her – she nuzzles her head up into his palm and Makoto could cry. “Oh, you look so scared…”  
  
Kasatka whistles and swings her head – Makoto’s gaze follows where her nose points, and he squints to make out a monstrous shadow lurking in the distance. The fog molds around its bulk and Makoto realizes that it’s a barge. Its groaning echoes across the water, the vessel roaring closer with such intimidating speed that alarm shoots through him.  
  
Kasatka bites the leg of his swim trunks to tug insistently and Makoto quickly slides into the water. They cower behind the rocks as the barge’s shadow drapes over them, and Makoto braces an arm on the rocks to fight against the vessel’s waves. The barge’s searchlights dance across the ocean’s surface but Makoto sees nobody up on the decks. It moves like a ghost – a vengeful one at that, carving through the water with purpose.  
  
The vessel’s insignia weeps sea mist. _Property of Blacksand Marina Research Facilities._  
  
His blood freezes. _“Where’s Haruka?”_  
  
Kasatka tugs his shirt, trying to pull him under. Makoto’s eyes dart to search her face and though no intelligent emotion shines back at him, her crooning is frantic. “You know where he is?”  
  
Kasatka yanks him harder at that and Makoto takes the biggest breath he can as he goes under. He’s never known such darkness, but Kasatka dodges the red searchlights like she knows where she’s going – like she might die if she doesn’t get there fast enough.  
  
Ells slither through the searchlights as hammerhead silhouettes hover in the distance – do they smell something bleeding? Fear puts Makoto in shock, but he’s overcome by terror when Kasatka takes him to the barge’s underbelly. There’s a mechanical claw in the water – it clamps together to make a cage and Haruka is trapped in the grooves of that claw.

Makoto shoots out a gasp of bubbles. The claw makes a slow but steady ascent up into the barge and Makoto chases after it, lashing through the blood in the water. He _tastes_ it, salt and iron that will haunt his dreams for the rest of his days.  
  
Makoto touches Haruka’s face and the Derketo flinches, curling into himself with a broken whine. Haruka blinks drowsily before his eyes flare wide at the sight of his mate, but his features quickly lose life, falling slack as red ribbons float from his middle. The claw’s teeth pierced his stomach and back, wedging him in the trap, and Makoto burns with guilt. This is his fault, not as an individual but simply as a human. _He_ is the cause of such pointless suffering.  
  
His lungs are painfully tight with the need to breathe and Haruka weakly opens Makoto’s jaw to kiss him, sighing into his mouth and giving him air to breathe. Magic leaves his insides cold but Makoto will gladly take the few extra minutes underwater it’ll give him. He braces his feet on the underside of the claw, tucking his hands between the sharp grooves. He whole-heartedly ignores it when the barbs pierce his hands, adrenaline burning away the sting of salt water in his wounds. He heaves the claw a few inches apart and Haruka warbles as the barbs shift inside him.  
  
Kasatka cries out but Makoto cannot process that it is not a human sound.  
  
His ligaments are on the verge of snapping and Haruka tries to wiggle free only to gush red. Distress screams through Makoto; his muscles throb and darkness blotches his vision but he will die here with his mate before he gives up.  
  
He heaves the claw up until his heart nearly bursts through his chest, and only then does golden light surge in his veins. Strength fires through him and the claw groans apart; it feels like Makoto is bearing the weight of the earth itself, but he holds steady as Haruka pries himself off the barbs. The claw sinks together the more he breaks free and Makoto realizes that something must take Haruka’s place in order for him to escape.  
  
The barge’s underbelly opens up to accept the claw and Makoto does not even think. If he had a lifetime to consider his options and think about his future – watching his twin siblings grow, seeing his father be happy – Makoto would have chosen the same fate.  
  
His life started and ended with a summer in Iwatobi, with a mermaid that made Makoto believe in magic and _himself._ He cannot even imagine how wonderful the years to come would have been. Maybe the memories will sweeten as time passes; perhaps the nostalgia will not be so bittersweet for his mermaid. He just wants Haruka to be free in every way possible, but for now, Makoto frees him of the claw and closes his eyes as it bites into him from all sides.  
  
Even with the pain, even with the soul-deep wail that Haruka lets out, Makoto smiles as darkness takes him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i said, i will not be updating any of my other fics until this one is completed, and since this chapter is in two parts, the update will be soon. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha) & [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/macbetha)


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